


A Secret Gate, Book 1: Home's Heart

by NovusArs



Series: A Secret Gate [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU/Altered Events, Biblo ends up with one of the dwarves, Death, Elves, F/M, Female Bilbo, Fili/Bilbo is probably the main pairing, Hobbits are their own race, Hobbits with power, M/M, No Tauriel, No azog, Orcs, Rule 63, Stuff happens, Wargs, m/m is only touched on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovusArs/pseuds/NovusArs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where hobbits didn't forget their nomadic culture and remembered who they are.</p><p>  <i>Hobbits were created from earth and plant. They were the children of Aule and Yavanna, made in celebration of their bonding. They knew the earthen tongue. Plant and earth come to their aid. </i></p><p>What would the journey to Erebor be like with a female Bilbo who knew a little about surviving?</p><p>or --</p><p>Basically me combining my desire to make Hobbits their own race (which means they get a gift of their own from Eru since all of his children get something cool), having a female Bilbo while making what happens sort of realistic as Gandalf is apparently known to take a lad or Lass of into the blue for an adventure, and making hobbits actually have a culture the reflects their past nomadic life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Took’s Life I May Lead

Chapter One: A Took’s Life I May Lead

  
  


Rolling hills of emerald green marked the beginnings of the Shire. Deep in the west, just past Bree but before the Blue Mountains, this land hide and there lived hobbits. Now hobbits were some of the small folk. They were shorter than dwarves but slight in build. Their ears held faint points, and their hearing and sight were greater than humans during the day but their eyes became equals at night.

 

Hobbits had a perchance in wearing no shoes and the males possessed their beards on their feet instead of their chins. Hobbit feet, while no larger than what would be expected, were tougher than the other races of the world. The only times a hobbit might wear shoes was on extremely long travels through less than comfortable terrain.

 

Now-a-days such travels have long ended. These small folk, once nomadic, now very rarely travel beyond the Brandywine River. The ones that do, rarely traveled far beyond it either.

 

Hobbits were considered simple folk who loved the simple things in life and have certainly never lived a day of hardship. Hobbits lived a sheltered life where good food, good company, and a good deal of lovemaking was the only things on their mind.

 

The only negative aspect of hobbits was their infernal insistence on being overly wary of strangers (and this was only negative in respect to the strangers). Anything even slightly queer was not respectable for a hobbit to be involved with. Conversing with strangers, in-ordinary number of visits to family more than a day away, sleeping past noon, skipping any of the six standard meals a day, and going on adventures are just a few of the unrespectable things a hobbit could do.

 

Of course hobbits also lose some respectability by who they are related to.  A little unusual, and admittedly very particular to an outsider, is the insistent claims that being related to the Took clan was a no-no, for instance. The Took clan was very large, very wealthy and the head was the Thain (equivalent to King at this point in history though no Hobbit would agree on that assessment) of the Shire. The Thain is a very respectable position. Yet to be a Took meant trouble.

 

Tooks’ went on adventures. Tooks’ made up the majority of the Shire’s meanger military. Tooks’ were queer as any hobbit could be.

 

What made matters worse were who the Tooks associated with. Big folk could be seen going to and from the great Took smial no matter the season. Sometimes a big folk would even go visit one of the Took clan living in a perfectly acceptable part of the Shire where such things didn’t happen.

 

One of the worse associates of the Took family was a wizard. Few of the Shire folk realized that this wizard was the real deal, though. He was only really know for two things: His fireworks, which were both queer and grand, and so there were a great number of shire folk loudly complaining about them but clearly enjoying them all the same; and his perchance in stealing away perfectly respectable lads and lasses, and having them go off into the blue for mad adventures. Sadly, to the disgruntlement of all in this particular part of the Shire, the wizard came visiting another such young hobbit.

 

Llorabell Baggins was considered a well-to-do hobbit lass who had just recently reached the appropriate age for courting. She had lovely golden curls that rested at the respectable length of just below her shoulders, wore a lovely brown and teal dress with a proper hemline at mid shine, and the respectable number of petticoats underneath. The proper embroidery - indicating her eligibility, family and such - was elegantly done across her sleeves and dress’ hemline. Her undnum (charms every lass possessed) were attached to a finely weaved golden anklet that rested on her right ankle, its gold glittering in the morning light reminding all that she came from a respectable, wealthy family. All in all, she was a proper, respectable Baggins.

 

Llorabell Baggins of Bag End was contently gardening in the crisp spring morning, listening to the whispers of her plants to make sure she was caring for them properly, when she was quite abruptly interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat. Looking up from her careful trimmings of her herb garden, the only part of the garden she did herself, Llorabell found herself staring up even further to properly see the strange big folk standing at her mailbox. Slowly standing up, the little hobbit lass stared a moment longer before remembering her manners and greeting the strange, elderly man. “Good Morning."

 

“What do you mean?” Responded the big folk. ”Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

 

Llorabell Baggins could not be blamed for the dumbfounded expression that crossed her face. Rude as it might be, any hobbit would have been most dumbfounded, indeed. Very few of them would have found their voice quiet as quickly as the hobbit lass did as she said back with mildly bemusement. “All of them, I suppose."

 

The disgruntled look the strange elderly man sent at her response made her wonder if she should have chosen only one of the options.  “uhh, well sir...." Llorabell glanced around helplessly before saying, “Is there something I can do for you?”

 

His face cleared of any disgruntlement and he nodded decisively, “Yes. I am looking for someone to share an adventure with."

 

“Oh." The little hobbit looked thoroughly startled at this revelation. “Well I....You see...." She became pinked at the cheeks as she struggled to find a response to the big folk. “Have you the wrong house? Perhaps... Perhaps you meant to go find someone over the hill or across the river?” She stepped hurriedly over and pulled the mail from her box. A quick nod and another “Good Morning” had her hurrying back towards her round, freshly painted green door.

 

“To think I would see the day I am Good Morning’ed and not recognized by Belladonna Took’s daughter." Llorabell jerked back towards the strange old man in surprise. He had known her mother? She took a moment to stare harder at the man, trying to place his face but all she got was a vague sense of excitement that she hadn’t felt in many years. “Bilbo Baggins, I am Gandalf and Gandalf is Me." Silence stretched across them at that statement. The expectant look on Gandalf’s face fell to one of annoyance as the hobbit lass just stared in shock at him. “I came here expecting the girl that was always running off looking for elves and the big folk in the forest. What I find instead is most disappointing."

 

Llorabell felt her breath knocked out of her. Her mind wasn’t able to pay any attention to what the old man was saying. She hadn’t heard anyone call her Bilbo in years. She used to insist on everyone calling her by that name, desparate for adventure.

 

All Took women were given a second, male name at birth. Its sole purpose was to allow them to go out on adventures without the danger of anyone knowing that they were women. It was a tradition that originated from their wandering days when it had been even more dangerous to be a female. Most hobbit families had dropped the tradition now. Only some of the great families like the Tooks and Brandybucks kept to it.  Bilbo was the name her father chose after it became apparent Belladonna would continue the tradition whether he wanted it or not.

 

Llorabell had spent her childhood being called Bilbo. She had only stopped all that nonsense after the Fell Winter. After she watched, hidden, as the goblins tore her parents apart. She stopped wanting anything to do with adventures after having to listen to those screams, after watching the goblins eat them raw and still alive during part of it.

 

“No, no." Gasped Llorabell, her voice thick and honey colored eyes gleaming at the memories that name forced forth. “You got the wrong hobbit! I don’t do such things anymore. I haven’t for years. I-I’m most respectable now!”

 

Gandalf humpered softly to himself before nodding to some internal thought, “That decides it. I will tell the others." The hobbit shook her head at the elderly man as she quickly headed to the door with another “Good Morning”.  He called after her, “It will be good for you and most amusing for me."

 

With that Llorabell fled into her house, heart pounding in faint terror. An adventure! She had long since stopped thinking such silly thoughts. She was a respectable hobbit now. Llorabell shook her head to rid herself of any thoughts on the strange occurrence. She had things to get done today.

 

The little hobbit quickly wandered through her smial, which has had a Baggins living in it since its existence and showed its age by all the antiques and mess of objects filling its shelves. The entire interior of the smial was done up with rich woods, warm colors, vibrant tile across the floors and a surprisingly large window in every room of the underground home. There was not an empty wall but it felt more cozy and welcoming then cluttered with its many coat hooks by the front door and many chairs spread across each room. This was a home for a large family and many friends. It was a place that screamed welcome to all.

 

Once in the kitchen the little hobbit quickly pulled a pot from the fire and then stilled. “Oh I forgot my herbs!” Rushing quickly back outside, though not before checking through one of the windows to make sure that Gandalf fellow was gone, Llorabell picked up her basket of herbs and looked through her pile to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.

 

“Miss Baggins are you quite alright?” There standing by her mailbox with his sun hat on his head and grass stains already covering his hands and knees was Hamfast Gamgee, her young tween gardener.

 

“Oh yes, yes I am. Just forgot my herbs, Mrs. Cotton requested some eglantine tea and Mr. Proudfoot needs some more aspen cream. He keeps getting those awful headaches." She carefully clipped a few more of the pink roses to add to her basket.

 

Hamfast nodded in understanding before saying, “So that big folk didn’t do you any harm?”

 

Llorabell paused at that,  “Well he gave me quite a scare, I must admit. That Gandalf fellow went off about an adventure of all things!”

 

“Gandalf?!” Llorabell looked up with a start. Hamfast sounded absolutely distraught. “Was he truly Gandalf, the wizard who brings those fireworks here every few years?!”

 

“Oh!” Gasped Llorabell, a vague memory of hitting the old man with a wooden sword came to mind. “That’s how I knew him. I mean he spoke of my mother but I couldn’t remember anything about the man." She smiled in relief as she trimmed some rosemary, “It’s a relief, knowing where I had heard of him before... Those were very good fireworks but I wonder why he decided to scare me over talking about adventures?” Llorabell shook her head, happy to assume it had been all a great misunderstanding. She would have happily help the poor man with his fireworks; that was an acceptable adventure to have. “I’m surprised he’s still in business."  Looking up at Hamfast Gamgee made her think twice.

 

He looked devastated, more so than before. Finally he spoke up, “My dear Llorabell. You don’t remember the saying about him, do you?”

 

The little hobbit lass felt her stomach drop. “Saying?”

 

Hamfast nodded helplessly at her before he recited a familiar poem,

“When that wizard, gray, comes down the lane.

Hide away, Hide away.

For he comes to claim one of us quiet folk

for an adventure to somewhere far away.

And whether you want to or not you will soon be gone from home."

 

Llorabell felt herself grow rather ill as her gardener finished reciting the saying, one she had never really paid much attention to. Whatever was she going to do? “I can’t go on an adventure!”

 

Her gardener gave her a sad look and answered, “Perhaps you should go talk to one of your Took relatives on the matter. If you get together the items for the Cottons and Proudfoots, I can take them for you. The sooner this is all figured out the better."

 

She nodded. “It will take me half an hour to finish things up here. Thank you."

 

Hamfast nodded, “I’ll go collect a jennet for you. Who knows how much time you have."

 

With a quick thanks, Llorabell rushed off in a daze. An adventure of all things! Whatever was she going to do on an adventure?

 

After finishing up with her herbal remedies, Llorabell prepared for her trip to visit her uncle Isengar. It would only take the rest of the morning on a Jennet but she would have to get food and such for the trip. It wouldn’t do to miss second breakfast.

 

The last item the little hobbit grabbed was a small dagger that had once been her mother’s and had been given to her that night when she had been forced to hide. Her mother told her to keep it for defense, obviously only for that night but Llorabell came to always take it with her when she went anywhere beyond the market in Hobbiton. It wouldn’t really be of much use in a fight but she felt mildly safer with it.

 

Llorabell traded the remedies for the reins of the hybrid and a lift up onto the seat. Then she was off down the lane, her thoughts a mess of terrible fantasies. It was the third shouting of her name that broke her deeply depressing thoughts.

 

“Miss Llorabell where are you off to?” The hobbit lass looked to the side and found Wilcome Cotton standing, staring helplessly up at her. A thing of wild flowers were clenched in his hands. Llorabell felt mildly bad for him but only a little as she had never intended to pursue whatever it was Wilcome was hoping for.

 

“I’m off in a hurry to see my Uncle, Mister Wilcome." She called and firmly ignored the answering call asking when she would be home. She had more important things to worry about then unoffical courting proposals today.  The little hobbit lass continued down the dirt lane, past the wheat fields, the little ponds of the Proudfoots, through Hobbiton’s market and on, past many emerald green hills.

 

Far too soon Llorabell found herself being guided through the great Took smial to a study when Uncle Isengar was relaxing. The elderly hobbit smiled warmly, laugh lines growing deeper, but quickly closed his book at her distraught appearance. “My dear Bell, whatever is the matter?”

 

It was like a dam broke within her. It took only a few moments to explain why she was there but many more minutes for her hysterics to calm. By then her cousin (and acting Thain) Fortinbras and his wife Lalia had joined them in the study.

 

The two had recently bonded and Fortinbras was new in his position of Thain but they both still looked the part of respectable, wealthy hobbits. Their cloths were in proper order and their curly, honey and chestnut hair (respectively) was carefully groomed. They both were older than Llorabell but not middle aged yet. They were still more worldly than her and Llorabell welcomed any advice.

 

“Well there’s nothing to it but to get everything prepared." Said Isengar more firmly and determined then Llorabell wanted to hear. Couldn’t he have consoled her by saying that it really had been all a misunderstanding?

 

“Did the old wizard tell you when he’d be by to collect you?” Asked Fortinbras as he thoughtfully began writing some list across a spare paper.

 

Llorabell shook her head, too frustrated and shocked by the casual acceptance by her Took relatives. It had been too long since she had been with them. She had truly taken up her Baggins lifestyle.

 

Fortinbras nodded in understanding, “Well we’ll just have to act like he’ll be back any day." He rose after taking one last look over his list. “I’ll have Adalgrim get all your traveling gear together. Lalia would you be a dear and ask one of the bounder captains to spread the word for everyone to keep a lookout for Gandalf. That should give our Bell time to make it home before he shows to pick her up." He turned back to Llorabell and smiled kindly at his little cousin. “Do you remember how to throw daggers still? We don’t really have time to teach you much about swordplay and it would be better for you to know a distance weapon."

 

Llorabell shook her head and whispered a shameful, “No”.

 

When she had reached her first decade of life her mother had brought her here for the traditional teaching of the Took. She still retained many of the songs, plant knowledge, how to setup a fire and even how to gut a rabbit but after the Fell Winter she had pushed anything to do with adventure away - including her heritage, her family. Sitting here now and seeing them outside a mandatory celebration, after so many years, was strange but it was clear that they had understood why she did what she had. Or at least they didn’t take offense when they should have.

 

“Best go practice, then." Order Isengar. “I’ll go talk with one of the ladies to work with you later." The elder groaned softly as he pushed himself up with his cane.

 

“With what?” Asked Llorabell as she also rose, stepping to his side incase he needed any aid.

 

“With your appearance." He explained. “You can’t go running off claiming a male name but looking like a girl. Defeats the point."

 

Llorabell blushed, “Oh."

 

“Come along Bell, I’ll get you to the bounder field. I know just the person that can help you practice." Said Fortinbras warmly. The little hobbit lass followed her older cousin out to the fields. There were a few Bounders going through training with both bow and sword. None appeared to be working with daggers. “Jathen!” Shouted Fortinbras as he strolled across to the archery range. Llorabell followed quickly, trying to watch all the training at the same time.

 

One of the bounders jogged after them. “Sir?” Asked Jathen, a hobbit with the rare deep red hair color and the equally rare straight texture. He probably had all the lasses in the area swooning over him.

 

“I need you to work with my cousin, Llorabell, on dagger throwing. If she does well enough lets have her try out axe and galurim throwing." Llorabell started slightly at the wink the red head shot her when Fortinbras turned to look at her during his explanation. “Bell." She turned sharply over to her cousin. He smiled reassuringly at her. “You’ll get the hang of this. Tomorrow we’ll go over the basics on swords but still focus mostly on the throwing blades."

 

Llorabell nodded helplessly. She didn’t want to know any of this. All she wanted was to go back to Bag End and enjoy a quiet evening by her hearth. But she didn’t have a choice and she would be a fool to not do everything she could to prepare.

 

Jathen was skilled at refreshing Llorabell on how to handle the throwing knives even if he did so a little too close. As the sun began to set Llorabell found her aim was good enough to hit the target each time at ten paces. The knives didn’t always hit the center of the target but she didn’t totally miss.

 

Another of Llorabell’s older cousins, Heather daughter of Uncle Isembold, came to take her to supper. There the Baggins hobbit saw many of her Took kin and was regaled with tales of adventure and advice for her travels ahead. Songs of old, from the time of wandering and in their own secret tongue, was sung for her. They were both blessings and given as refreshments to remember herself. Their songs held power after all.

 

Hobbits were believed to be simple folk and that was true. They were thought to be suspicious people and that was equally true. Everyone knew that hobbits were related to men but that was a lie. It was common knowledge that hobbits only spoke the common tongue of western man and that was equally wrong.

 

Of course, if one of the big folk came up and asked a hobbit, said hobbit would simply confirm the lies as truth. There was just somethings outsiders shouldn’t know. Every race had their secrets but the hobbits of old knew one important truth that the other races ignored (and it was a truth that the hobbits held to, to this day). Secrets aren’t safe if everyone knows about them. Just look at the dwarven tongue and how many elves and men knew at least some of it.

 

So hobbits lied and still lie about their past and their culture. No one knew the truth of the hobbits. Because of that, no one knew of the second adopted children of Iluvatar.

 

Llorabell closed her eyes as one of the oldest songs were sung, a song of their creation.

 

“On the eve of their bonding

Beloved Yavanna and Strong Aule

Wrought us in love..."

 

They were gifts. The hobbits had been created together by both Aule and Yavanna on the eve of their wedding. They were made from earth and plant, a combination of all the two Vala stood for. When the two Vala bonded, Iluvatar gifted the hobbits life and they become the earth children, children of the ground and the plants. And with all his children, they were given a gift all to themselves.

 

Hobbits were gifted the ability to have a bond as close as their creators. Hobbits didn’t canoodle because the simple act of sex between them and another person led to their souls bonding together for the rest of their days and beyond. They would never have such a connection with another person after that first. That didn’t mean the hobbits couldn’t live without the other consistently in their life or in their life at all. A hobbit could bond themselves with a person they never see again in this life and live happily. It was a simple fact that the soul bonding gave depth to a relationship that no other could have.

 

Some hobbits become so close to their bonded that their minds connect on a similar level to their souls. Those hobbits could speak to each other without speaking out loud. Becoming a mindwhisper meant that your relationship with your bonded is as close as it would ever be. There were other aspects, like being able to find your bonded no matter where they were and knowing if they are hurt or not, that all hobbits gained with their bonding.

 

There were stories of other aspects a bond could have, depending on the situation. Llorabell didn’t know if any of them were real. Gaining a longer life, as one story claimed, seemed far fetched at best. Though the life of Old Took indicated that there might be some truth to the stories.

 

Besides the gift from Iluvatar, Aule and Yvanna gave their children their own gift. Hobbits knew the tongue of the earth, the language of the plants and ground, the words of rock and trees whispered across the land. It was a gift that would never fade.

 

The elves had once been able to hear the trees. Families of dwarves used to hear the echoes of precious stones and metals in the earth. But those abilities had faded with time. The elves stopped listening and the familial gift had faded to near non-existence amongst the dwarves.

 

Hobbits grew up hearing the tongue from their kin and from the world around them. They would always know it. With the language the hobbits could speak to the plants and earth. It was how the Shire was so prosperous. The hobbits had the very plants and ground telling them how to care for it.

 

In turn, the little folk were able to call out for help. Their plea might not always be answered though. In winter the earth and plants slept, and so if they called for aid the earth may not answer in time, if at all. Some plants and minerals of the land choose never to aid them. It was a plea for aid not a command, after all.

 

All the same, the language of the hobbits was hidden in fear of what the other races would do if they found out. Would humans be able to even ask the earth for help or would the words not be heard? What if orcs learned the tongue and the earth listened to their call? No, there were very good reasons to hide their language.

 

The language could be destructive in the wrong hands but it gifted them with a way to protect themselves. Hobbits were not fighters, no matter how many years they spent working their skills with the blade or bow. Their bodies were too small and light for the type of fighting common amongst the rest of the world. So hobbits learned to use their language to help with this disadvantage.

 

Songs in their tongue gave power, whether it hide the hobbits from warg and orc or boasted the sharpness of their blades. That night Llorabell was told much loved songs and songs she had never heard. She learned songs for hiding, songs to keep her aim true, songs to heal, songs to move the very earth, and songs to boost the spirits of all who heard. These were songs that she may need on her adventure.

 

The next day Llorabell was given the basics on a sword fighting style and then was taken by Jathen to learn how to throw axe and galurim. The axe throwing was similar to dagger throwing but Jathen took each chance to get close to her. Llorabell was beat red by the time Jathen was done guiding her through the throwing motions, multiple times over. She was quite certain he didn’t need to press right up to her back and hold her hips like he did but Llorabell didn’t really know what to do about it.

 

Luckily Fortinbras and Adalgrim appeared and the forward redhead became very scarce. Llorabell happily ignored the grumblings about personal space from her older cousins as Jathen was gone and it didn’t matter now.

 

With one last glare over at the retreating back of said redhead, Fortinbras opened a case he had brought and pulled out a circle of metal. It wasn’t flat metal though. The inner part was thicker than the outer and the outer was slightly sharpened.

 

“Do you know anything about galurims, Bell?” Asked Fortinbras as he handed the circle of metal to Llorabell and pulled out two more.

 

The hobbit lass shook her head slowly as she slid her hands over the weapon. “I only know that these were used during the years of wandering." Llorabell tightened her hand around the metal ring and hefted it up higher, getting used to the weight.

 

Adalgrim spoke up as he took a pair out of the box also, “These are used as both long distance and short distance weapons. We wear chained gloves to handle the sharpened versions, these are just for practice and are sharp enough to do great damage when thrown."

 

“Watch." Ordered Fortinbras before he twisted his body in a slight circular motion and threw the circle. The blade sliced straight through the hay target’s right side before slamming into an upright position in the ground. Its metal gleamed in the sun, peaking up amongst the grass.

 

“Don’t throw these like a dagger or axe. You don’t have as much control that way, nor do you get as much distance." Explained Adalgrim as he stepped up and slowly went through the throwing motion. Fortinbras guided Llorabell to the side and with a nudge of his foot on hers slowly got her in the correct stance.

 

After a couple hours and a short break for afternoon tea, Llorabell was finally asked to try throwing one. She twisted in the proper circular motion and let the galurim fly. The little hobbit lass fell onto her bum and stared at the galurim laying just a few feet away. It certainly could have gone better.

 

Llorabell glared at her laughing cousins. “You oafs, leave our Bell alone." The three hobbits looked over to the newly arrived hobbit. Heather had her hands on her hips as she somehow glared down her nose at the much taller males. The brunette turned suddenly towards Llorabell, her brown curls bouncing as she said with a cheerful smile. “Bell we’ve got your gear ready for your adventure. I thought this would be a good time to test out the male attire."

 

It was an hour later that found Llorabell Baggins of Bag End, a perfectly respectable hobbit lass and considered quite a catch by the majority of Hobbiton, staring into a full length mirror and seeing a very pretty male staring back at her. Heather had helped her learn the best and most comfortable way to bind her chest and abdomen to make her both flat and slightly broader in appearance. Her lovely curves were hidden underneath multiple layers of bandages and over that was three layers of clothing and armor.

 

She had a simple tunic then a layer of thick leather and then another, heavier and thicker made tunic on top. She had leather trousers that went all the way to her ankles, which was strange as hobbits generally wore shorter pants to keep the mud (which could be very high on a hobbit) from covering them. The outer tunic was longer than normal for a male outfit but was slitted on the sides to allow ease of movement.

 

“I look like a pretty boy." Grumbled Llorabell. This wasn’t going to work. “I don’t even have any foot hairs like a male should!”

 

Heather laughed warmly as she dropped something down by Llorabell’s feet. “We’ll have to cut your hair I suppose but no one’s going to notice your feet."

 

Llorabell stared down at the items her cousin had dropped. Shoes. Llorabell carefully poke one of the black boots with a toe. “What are these?”

 

“Uncle Isengar insists that you use them."

 

“Shoes."

 

Heather shrugged helplessly. “He seems to think that you’ll need them. Some of the bounders have to wear shoes when they go through the marshes and such. They’re a bit uncomfortable but when you don’t know what you’re walking on, you’ll be glad you have them."

 

Llorabell slowly picked one of them up. They were black with multiple brass buckles set to keep the boots secure. There wasn’t a major sole, the shoes were very flat in fact. It had a layer of stiff, thick and textured leather for the sole. The interior was covered with fur everywhere but the bottom which looked to have a layer of soft, thick leather.  The tip of the boots toe was covered in metal that was bent to a slight pointed angle."Did he say why?”

 

“Something about weather and terrain and needing more grip or something. I wasn’t paying too much attention." Llorabell made a noise in the back of her throat before sitting down and pulling the boots on. After a bit of fussing, the two hobbit lasses agreed that the boots probably should go over the pants and her charm anklet would best stay where it was.

 

The boots weren’t terrible. they were warm and heavy. She felt restricted in them, though they technically didn’t affect her movement. The most disconcerting aspect of boots was the restrictions of her toes. She was used to moving them, digging into the soft dirt with them. But if her uncle wanted her to wear shoes like a Stoor then she would. She wouldn’t be happy about it but she would wear them.

 

Last Heather hesitantly handed Llorabell a oddly shaped metal piece. It’s shape was curved almost like a bowl but somewhat pear shaped. “Its a..uhh..." Heather waved her hands about helplessly as she stared at Llorabell. “You put it...." The brunette sighed heavily before she spoke in a rush, a blush swallowing her face, “Its to give you the look of a boy.... for your crotch area."

 

Llorabell flushed red and the metal cup fell with a loud clank. After a few minutes of blushing and stuttering the two rather innocent lasses finally got the metal cup situated.

 

Everything fell into place once Heather cut her hair short like a proper male hobbit. Llorabell could start believing that she was a male. She was still prettier than males but she would pass as one all the same.

 

Llorabell found herself running around learning how to use throwing axes and daggers, and galurims while dressed as a male the rest of the week. She was given refreshers and training on skinning and gutting animals, herbal remedies her skills of a trainee healer had not yet taught her, making fires that would give no smoke, how to walk in shoes without making a sound, and anything else they could think to teach her in the short amount of time there was.

 

Gandalf was spotted almost a week and a half later. So after second breakfast Fortinbras and Adalgrim led their little cousin to the small armory. While it was small the walls and racks were filled with weapons. Some were old and some were new. All of them were sized for a hobbit.

 

There Llorabell was gifted a matching set of daggers, throwing axes, and twin galerims. They were old but still in good condition. They all had similar wind like swirled designs and the words “Swift Return” in the earth tongue, Moar Evunal, engraved across the flat of the blades. There was also a set of small, odd runes on each weapons handle which the leather wrap covered partly (or in the case of the galurims, right under the earth script). A set of fingerless gloves with metal mesh covering the palm side of the gloves and a plate, with the same wind like swirls and words inscribed across it, rested on the back of her hands.

 

Adalgrim gave her leather created to cover the decorative plate of the gloves, making them plain at a glance. “These blades were created with the help of a dwarf during the wandering days." He said softly as he helped secure the gloves onto her hands.

 

Fortinbras secured the throwing axes at her right thigh (five in total), her long tunic covering them as he added, “It is said that if you hear the voices of the metal you can call the blades back to you with a simple shout of Moar Evunal."

 

“Really?” Asked Llorabell as she flexed her hands, getting used to the heavy gloves. The earth language of worked metal and stone was as twisted as they were from their original form. It was like a heavy accent, difficult to understand. She had never heard the call or song of any wrought metal in her possession but tales spoke of weapons becoming light as air or always reaching the intended target once their owner could hear their voice and use the shared language.

 

Adalgrim secured two daggers in her left boot and another in her right. “The story says our great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother became dear friends with a skilled dwarven smith during one of the early wars of the second age. One day she found metal that sang to her of what it could become. She took the metal to her friend and he crafted these blades from it and is the only dwarf, or any non-hobbit to ever learn anything about our language."

 

The Thain handed Llorabell a simple leather belt with three throwing daggers, her mother’s dagger, and the twin galurims attached by their sheaths to it already. “Don’t place it on your waist, a bit below it. We don’t want any hint of your curves showing through." Fortinbras hummed softly as he helped adjust the belt to the right place. “The story also says that the dwarf was courting our grandma. It says that these were a courting gift."

 

Llorabell took the last dagger, its sheath was tied to a leather thong made to be secured around her neck, hidden at her back underneath all her clothing. “So we have dwarf blood in us?”

 

“No...." Adalgrim paused as he looked Llorabell over with a critical eye. “He died in a war. Grandma was fairly old when she finally bonded, was thought of as a spinster by then - if you recall."

 

“Oh! That grandma?” Llorabell looked down in wonder at her weapons. That grandma had been consider a very skilled and good Took. She had only bonded later in life after all her brothers had died without children to carry the Took name. She was one of the many Tooks the other hobbits would have heart attacks over these days. Hobbit lasses don’t stay unbonded for long once they’re at the courtable age. It just wasn’t done. The blond lass looked up at the other weapons in the room. “Do others have stories to them?”

 

“Ah, well yes. Most of the older weapons are from the wandering days and many of the newer ones are from our adventures." Adalgrim pulled out a larger knife, its handle was shaped to resemble a horse. “Your mother got this from Rohan when she aided the King and his family many years ago."

 

Llorabell carefully took it. It was heavier than any blade she had held yet. She experimentally held it up in a fighting stance before shaking her head and handing it back. The training she had gone through over the last week or so had proven that Llorabell didn’t really have the ability to use a sword well. Her skills lay in the throwing weapons. She could now hit bulls eye at fifteen paces and had gained some skill in hitting a moving target when she was taken to hunt rabbits. Llorabell could now properly throw the galurim ten paces but her aim was nowhere near perfect.

 

She had also been given a few hours everyday towards using the galurim blades in short distant fights. The focus was more towards defense and getting away than anything else but it was useful all the same. Her dear cousins had prepared her as well as they could with the time they had. If she survived this adventure of Gandalf’s, Llorabell wasn’t sure whether she would continue training with her blades or try to forget it all and curl up by the hearth. The latter sounded so very appealing.

 

Lalia and Heather took Llorabell back to her rooms to go through her pack. There was a sleeping roll, a bevorin (a traditional thin metal disk used for cooking during the wandering years, usually highly decorative in appearance but good for cooking fish), three pairs of extra inner and outer tunics, two more pairs of pants, an extra pair of boots (though lighter in construction), three fishing hooks of various sizes, a wooden rod to both keep structure to the traveling bag and built to be pulled out for fishing, a sharpening stone for the blades, a metal bowl for both eating from and cooking in, a smaller metal bowl for drinking and cooking, a set of utensils, a small manual of variations in healing plants and their names throughout middle-earth, three water skins, and various healing creams and herbal remedies. Most of the healing items Llorabell recognized from her trainings in healing (something she had taken up as more of a pass time then a true profession but was fairly skilled at it all the same). There was a number of healing concoctions Lalia had to explain, though.

 

“This is for deep wounds, made from ash and the groven tree, it helps cleanse the wounds from inflictions." Explained Lalia as she set the jar of minty green paste down before picking up one of two large packs of what looked to be tea bags. “This is errose tea. You will need to take some once a week till the bag is empty then you have to wait two weeks before starting up on the tea again. This will keep you from having your monthlies but it can become dangerous for you if you don’t have that two week break after six months. At that point you’ll have your monthly and its going to be a very bad one."

 

Llorabell look quessy at that. “Why would I-”

 

“You don't want to deal with a monthly when traveling and, anyway, you’re supposed to be a boy. It also supposedly helps keep you from getting pregnant." Lalia hummed for a moment before picking up two tea bags and a piece of folded paper, separate from the large bags of tea bags. “Fortinbras said you had a dagger around your neck. Pull it out." Llorabell did so and watched as Lalia carefully secured a fishing hook to the loop of leather and then attached the tea bags and folded paper to it. “If you lose your pack you’ll have two weeks to collect all the ingredients to make more tea." Explained Lalia. “Don’t lose these and your pack, now."

 

“Thank you." Muttered the blond hobbit.

 

Heather picked up one last item and helped Llorabell pull it on. “There now you look ready with your wanderers cape and all." Llorabell stared at herself. Now she looked vaguely like a bounder with her deep, forest green cape - nearly identical to the capes the bounders wore though theirs was in brown and didn’t have copper buttons... Or a hood attached since they had hats with their feathers denoting rank to wear instead.

 

Lalia handed over a case with material for embroidering. Baggin’s copper wire and spring green thread lay next to the silver wire and deep red thread of the Took clan. A few other complementary colored thread lay beside them. A wanderer’s cape told the stories of its owners travels after all. Llorabell would embroider across the bottom hem and slowly make her way around the entire edge until a full circle was made. Llorabell carefully packed the case into her bag before glancing back at the mirror.

 

She looked ready for an adventure but she didn’t feel ready. Llorabell finally took a deep, calming breath and hefted her traveling pack onto her back. It was heavier than anything she had ever carried before. She’d have to get used to it. It was time to go home and meet Gandalf.

 

Outside Llorabell declined a jennet for the way home. The thought of all hobbiton seeing her dressed like this was not entertaining in the least. No, she would take the back way through the fields so less of Hobbitons respectable folk would see her.

 

Llorabell turned back to the great Took smail’s entrance and smiled waterly at her kin. Lalia, Heather, Fortinbras, Uncle Isengar, Adalgrim and a few other Tooks gave her hugs and then, almost as one, they spoke in the earthen tongue.

 

“All that glitters is not gold

All that is precious is not metal

A heart holds dear all that matters

May your heart guide you home”

 

The hobbit of Bag End blinked back tears. Before responding in turn, “Till next we meet, whether in the fields of the Shire or Yavanna."

 

Fortinbras stepped forward and finished weaving together a circle around her wrist. Made from dyed leather straps, it was a traditional wanderers weave. It should not come off her wrist till she came home for a circle should never end unless it was where it had begun. Llorabell traced the multicolored leather bracelet, touched at her cousin’s thoughtfulness.  Then she turned away and forced herself to walk back through the fields to her home.

 

Her Took kin’s farewell was one that hobbits only give to kin or dear friends that they may never meet again. The poem was part of a song sung only at funerals. Very rarely did hobbits say it now a days but it was a fitting farewell for a hobbit about to go on an adventure for it was a farewell and a reminder of what is most important. No matter how much treasure your adventure gifts you, the most important thing is home and home was where your family and friends were. The wanderer’s bracelet would be her constant reminder of what was most important.

 

Llorabell Baggins paused in her tracks and stared out at the fields of the Shire, eyes drinking in her home one last time. There was one place she’d like to go before leaving. She hadn’t been there for a number of years. The small hobbit turned and began trekking through the wheat fields to the north east. About thirty minutes from Bag End, Llorabell found her hidden childhood wonderland.

 

Honey eyes wandered over the wall of rope like vines before slowly pushing her hands through it and walking besides the cliff side. Finally her hands met no resistances and with a quick glance around, the blond lass pushed her way through the vines into a cave she once hadn’t needed to duck in but now couldn’t quite stay standing straight. The cave wasn’t dark, she could make out a dim light at the other side, giving enough light to see where to place her feet.

 

Once on the other side, Llorabell smiled a bittersweet smile. She used to come here and pretend that she was on an adventure, searching for elves and dwarves and goblins. The cave stretched out far beyond her sight and she had never had the courage to continue far into the tunnels nor the need with the first cave before her. Though, perhaps it wasn’t right calling it a cave as the ceiling had collapsed long ago.

 

The walls still rose a good couple hundred feet up and curved slightly into the sky. A few stalactites hung from the wall. The rope like vines that hide the entrance hung down amongst the stalactites and Llorabell knew they would be blossoming with white flowers in a few weeks. A few trees rose at angles off the walls, reaching for the sky and a number more rose from inside the cave itself, growing up around the large lake sitting in the middle. The cave floor had a mixture of grasses, mosses, stalagmites and other various rock formations.

 

Llorabell bowed and called out in greeting to the world around her. The breezy greetings that returned softened her smile to one of pure joy. After a few more moments of just looking at the scenic view the blond hobbit shrugged off her bag. If she was here she might as well see about getting something for dinner. Kneeling besides her pack, Llorabell carefully pulled the rod of wood from what looked like a seam in the bag and then unhooked one of the fishing hooks from its place on the inside of the largest flap. Within a few seconds she had a fishing pole.

 

The hobbit looked around thoughtfully for a few moments before noticing a small area of the cave’s wall that had crumbled. She made quick work in finding a earthworm. Then at last she settled down by the lake and waited. The soft murmurings of the plants around her mixed with the soft clicking of crickets. The even fainter vrooming sounds of the earth and stones completed the strange orchestra of sound she had always known.

 

Hobbits could talk to the world but that didn’t mean the world always spoke within hearing. Llorabell had never had rocks or stone speak more than greetings to her. The plants spoke in more depth. They always have and probably always will. That was how it was with most hobbits. A couple of the blacksmiths and such had conversations with the stone but most never really talked.

 

Llorabell looked over the cavern walls with a small amount of wonder. Maybe one day she would have reason to speak with them and they with her. Honey eyes paused on the crumbled wall she had found her worm in. Something glinted brightly in the slowly setting sun.

 

Securing her fishing rod between rocks, the hobbit wandered back over and carefully pushed dirty out of the way. Something glinted green back at her. With a little work a rock almost twice the size of her hand rolled out of the wall. Llorabell went back to her fishing rod, rubbing the dirty off the stone and dunking it in the water to clean it. Hints of deep green started to peek out from the rock.

 

Pretty.

 

The sudden bending of her fishing rod distracted the hobbit lass from her shiny stone. Ten minutes later, Llorabell Baggins slipped out the hidden cave entrance and rushed off home with a fairly large fish and a pretty stone clenched in each hand.

 

Once home Llorabell hung the fish on a hook by the back door and slipped inside. Dropping her traveling pack down by the door, the young hobbit lass almost skipped to her room. She set the stone on her bed and slipped down to the floor to only come back up a moment later with a small chest that had been hidden under her bed.

 

Opening the chest, Llorabell paused to admire all the shiny rocks inside it. She had found all these rocks in her hidden cave or the surrounding tunnels she had dared as a child. She picked up one with golden flecks glittering in the evening sun. This one had once been used as hidden treasure she and her playmates would find after a long adventure. “It seems right." Muttered Llorabell as she set both the old and new rock into her chest. It seemed only right that she would find one more shiny stone before her real adventure.

 

Hiding the chest away once more, the hobbit of Bag End went back outside to gut and clean her fish. As she was just finishing the preparations, Hamfast Gamgee called out in greetings as he walked out of the mess of the back gardens. “Is that you Miss Baggins?”

 

“Oh yes it is! How have you been Mister Gamgee?”

 

“Very well, ma'am. You off on an adventure then?” Hamfast looked sadly at her as she finished up cleaning the fish.

 

Llorabell huffed softly at that, eyes flickering down at her male attire, “I’m afraid so. Would you be so good as to look after Bag End for me?”

 

“Yes, of course."

 

“Thank you, I’ll be leaving anytime really. Depends on when Gandalf shows up." Llorabell rose. “I’ll see you when I get back."

 

Hamfast nodded and said, “Ori Saindake hilua."

 

Llorabell paused as a lump caught in her throat. “Saindake."

 

With that Llorabell went in and pulled off all her weapons and her shoes. Then she cooked the fish up and with a splash of lemon moved to eat. A knock on the door stopped her from digging into it, though.

 

It must be Gandalf. She would have to pull out more food if he had sent word ahead. Llorabell walked quickly to the door and pulled it open. Her mind went blank at the sight before her.

 

The figure was shorter than a human but taller than the tallest hobbit. Built with powerful muscles and a wide girth, the figure was dressed for travel and battle. His head was cleanly shaven on top, leaving tattoos visible to the sky. A long beard melded with equally long hair that grew around large ears and the sides of his head.

 

“Dawlin at your service." Rumbled the powerful being.

 

A dwarf.

 

Llorabell’s mind jerked back into motion as she struggled to understand what was in front of her. She had never met a dwarf before. Why was he even here?

 

“Bilbo Baggins?” Asked the dwarf, his brow arched.

 

Llorabell jerked slightly at that and said before thinking, “Oh yes, I am." Immediately after she couldn’t help but wonder how he knew that name. The only one that had called her that recently was Gandalf. Honey eyes widened. The two spoke at the same time.

 

“Well where is it-”

“Do you know Gand-”

 

The two paused and stared at each other for a moment before the dwarf gave a slight nodded. Llorabell asked, “Do you know Gandalf?”

 

Eyebrows rose at her question, “Aye he sent us here for the meeting. Said there would be plenty of supper to go with it."

 

Llorabell spurted at that. “Wha-what?! There isn- why he never...." She paused and, ignoring the slightly amused look directed at her, she pulled herself back together. “Well how many then?”

 

“How many what?”

 

“How many will be here for dinner?” She asked in exasperation.

 

“Fourteen."

 

Llorabell stared, mouth agape for a moment as her mind tried to understand. “Four-four-fourteen!” The hobbit twirled around in a rush and almost flew back to the kitchen. Llorabell near forgot all about Dwalin the dwarf as she rushed to put her largest cauldron over the fire.

 

“You alright there lad?”

 

The hobbit twisted around to find the powerful dwarf standing at the kitchen’s entrance. “Fourteen!” She cried out again. “Gandalf hadn’t even told me he was coming tonight!”

 

“Ah." Was the dwarf’s only response.

 

Llorabell stared at the dwarf for a moment before remembering her fish. Picking the plate and utensils up she quickly handed them over to him. “Here, apologies for not having a proper meal ready for everyone yet. Please enjoy this while I get everything ready. The dining room is ove-” Llorabell paused at the entrance of her dining area. “I don’t even have room for fourteen!”

 

Dwalin stomped into the room and, with a quick glance around, said, “No worries laddie, once a few more of us get here we’ll make room."

 

The respectable hobbit nearly cried out again at that. Guests shouldn’t have to do anything! Llorabell took a deep breath before nodding and forcing out a quick “thank you” before running back to the kitchen.

 

Luckily Llorabell was a proper, respectable hobbit and was prepared for short notice gatherings - though not really one for fourteen. By the time a knock came from the door the stew was simmering and the most basic of her buns were filling the smial with the smell of cinnamon and yeast. Her two hams were sizzling and a pot of sausages were just being pushed into the oven besides the nearly done buns.

 

Before Llorabell could move from the kitchen loud stomps were heard from the dining room and a moment later a yell of brother was heard. She gave the dwarves a moment before moving swiftly out to greet her new guest.

 

“-now that any of us were coming." Dwalin was saying to the new dwarf, his hands busy working some cookies out of the glass jar from her living area.

 

“Good evening." Greeted Llorabell as she paused a respectable distance from the two dwarves. The new dwarf was shorter than Dwalin and appeared older and wiser with his white hair and beard. The fairly respectable, compared to the battle ready wear of Dwalin’s, red tunic helped Llorabell relax slightly. The new dwarf didn’t seem so much of a warrior as the other and that put her at ease.

 

A warm smile, and a deep patient voice resonated from the dwarf. “that it is." He gave a slight bow and spoke, “Balin, at your service."

 

Llorabell moved to respond when a loud whistling sound came from the kitchen. The water for adding to the sausage pan was ready. “Ah, forgive me! One moment!” She cried before rushing back to the kitchen.

 

By the time she had finished pouring the water, pulling the buns out and placing pies into the oven a knock came again from the door. This time Llorabell made it to the door. Opening it revealed two more dwarves. Both were younger than Dwalin and Balin. They seemed like night and day though their features were similar enough to denote a familial relation.

 

The blond wore warm brown toned leather clothing and some type of fur over his shoulders. Multiple handles could be seen at his waist and peaking out of his boots. An amused smile graced his face as he seemed to be staring at the brunette.

 

The brunette wore cool colored gray leather and had a strap across his front. The bow and quiver resting in the crook of his arm indicated the strap’s use. A sword rested at the dwarf’s hip. His expression was one of grave seriousness and yet it seemed forced, like the dwarf was trying too hard to keep the expression on his face.

 

Unlike the two older dwarves, these two wore their beards short. The blond had multiple braids throughout his mane like hair and even in his mustache. The brunette seemed to have had a braid recently fall out as parts of his hair was wavy.

 

“Kili." Spoke the brunette.

 

“Fili." Said the blond.

 

They both bowed with flourish and said at the same time, “At your service." When they rose from their bow the serious expression on Kili’s face was replaced with a smile full of relief and pride. There was a hint of mischief there, too.

 

“You must be Mister Boggins!” said Kili, his smile growing into a joyful grin that screamed mischief.

 

Llorabell started at that. “What?”

 

“lads, come help."  Called Dwalin, interrupting Llorabell’s thoughts. Fili and Kili stomped in with a shouted greeting to the two older dwarves, one moved with restrained excitement and the other held an almost arrogant sway to his movement.

 

Llorabell stared after them for a moment. Mister? A frown graced her face as she mulled over that word as she headed back to the kitchen. Pulling out some veggies to add to a pan for some broiling, Llorabell could hear the dwarves carefully moving the furniture out of the dining room.

 

Dwalin had called her laddie and Kili had called her mister. Did they think she was a he? Or had Gandalf explained hobbit tradition for traveling females like herself? She’d have to ask Gandalf when he got here.

 

The food was soon ready to eat and the hobbit carefully began to pile the meat up on platters. The dwarves appeared at the kitchen entrance and happily helped carry the food to the table, the younger two stealing pieces of meat as they went. Remembering herself, Llorabell showed Dwalin where the buttery and bottlery were and gave a quick assurance that everything was open to drink.

 

Then another knock came from the door. Opening the door, Llorabell stumbled back as a mess of dwarves fell into her foray. Honey eyes swam over the pile before looking up and meeting Gandalf’s eyes. For a second she thought she saw a relieved look across his face before amusement replaced it.

 

The dwarves rose up and quickly greeted her as they nearly flew back to the dining room. Llorabell didn’t catch the names of the dwarves beyond the similarities between many of them. Soon the smial was filled with the boisterous laughter and rumbling roar of dwarven voices.

 

The hobbit lass stumbled around as the dwarves swarmed between getting drinks, grabbing a few of the cold foods out of the pantry she hadn’t had time to pull out for them, and greeting each other heartedly. She tried to get to Gandalf multiple times but he always seemed to be between a dwarf and herself.

 

Llorabell huffed in annoyance, she had never had such a rumbustious group over for dinner before. She spied one of the dwarves, the largest of the bunch with bright red hair, carrying multiple giant wheels of cheese. “Do you need a cheese knife for that?” She called out, trying to be a proper hostess.

 

“Nah, he eats it by the wheel." explained the dwarf with the ridiculous hat and braided tri-pigtails. Bo-something or other wandered past her with a bowl of some of her prize winning tomatoes. Llorabell sighed heavily before grabbing a cup of tea and joining the party. She was hunger after all.

 

It was during the meal that Llorabell was able to learn the names of the last group of dwarves. Bofur was the hatted dwarf. Bombur was the ginger who enjoyed cheese a little too much. They were brothers and Bifur, who had an axe stuck in his head, was their cousin. Bifur was older than the other two, if the grey weaved through his black hair was any indication. He also couldn’t speak an ounce of common tongue.

 

Then there was Dori, Nori, and Ori. They were all brothers. Dori had silvery grey hair intricately weaved into tight braids around his head and beard. Ori and Nori had similar reddish brown hair. Ori had a number of braids in his hair and somewhat straggly beard. Nori’s hair was secured into three spikes with a braid, starting from his eyebrows, separating each spike and a single braid weaved into the top of the middle spike. His beard was as intricately braided as his older brothers, though it mirrored his hair with being separated into three parts. All three had clasp like beads of similar design securing their braids.

 

The last two dwarves, Oin and Gloin, were also brothers. They seemed closer in age to Balin and Dwalin then Kili and Fili. Oin had greying hair and had to use an instrument to hear proper conversation. (Not that dwarves seemed to do proper conversation. They instead enjoyed shouting.) Gloin had a huge beard compared to everyone else. His hair was a duller red then Bombur’s but truer in color than Nori and Ori’s.

 

Llorabell sat back and listened to all the conversations around her. Dwalin, Balin, Fili, Kili, Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin. Her eyes moved to Gandalf for a moment before widening. There was one missing.

 

She swiftly went to her pantry and frowned at the nearly empty space. “Is everything alright laddie?”

 

Llorabell turned and smiled at Balin. “Well I just noticed we were missing a person. Will he need to eat?”

 

“Aye, very much so but you needn’t worry. There will be stew left for him." He explained kindly. “We haven’t eaten everything just yet."

 

The hobbit nodded in thanks before spying Gandalf standing off on his own. Maybe she would finally get some answers. “Gandalf?”

 

The wizard looked over at her with a kind smile, “My dear Bilbo, is something the matter?”

 

“Well besides having a gathering this size show up without any warning, yes. You have been avoiding me and I need some answers. I mean, Gandalf, they are calling me mis-”

 

“Excuse me." Llorabell turned to find Ori standing before her looking fairly self conscious. “I don’t mean to interrupt but what do I do with this?”

 

Llorabell looked down at the plate in the young dwarf’s hands. It was one of her fine china pieces, the set that had been handed down from mother to daughter for five generations.

 

“Toss it here, Ori."

 

Her eyes went huge as Ori did just that. She twisted around to follow the plate’s descent into Fili’s hand. She couldn’t help the high pitched note in her voice as she cried out, “That’s my mother’s china! You need to be careful with that!”

 

Almost as if in response to her words, pounding of metal against wood floated in from the dining room. Llorabell rushed over to find the dwarves clinking her fine silverware together and against the table. “Please don’t do that, you’ll blunt them!” How had she not noticed everyone using her fine utensils and china?!

 

“Ohhh, you hear that boys? He’s said we’d blunt the knives!” Cried out Bofur, laughter in his voice. What proceeded after was a very merry song, one she would have appreciated more if they hadn’t proceeded to toss all the china every which way. In the end they had somehow cleaned everything up and not a single item was broken. It was a little mind boggling staring at the stacked china and clean silverware surrounded by laughing, merry dwarves.

 

The laughter was cut short by a resounding knock on the door. Gandalf was the first person to react and everyone slowly followed. Llorabell kept a little back, uncertain over all the merry dwarves less than merry reaction to the last member of the gathering finally coming.

 

Gandalf pulled the door open. A low rumble rolled across the room as the last dwarf entered with a slow, regal motion. “Gandalf, I thought you said it would be easy to find this place." The new dwarf’s words held no real heat behind them. “I only found it because of the mark on the door."

 

“Mark?” Breathed Llorabell. She frowned before adding, “I just had the door painted two weeks ago, Gandalf."

 

“Ah, yes well." Gandalf hmmed for a moment before nodding to the new dwarf. “This is Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of this company."

 

“So this is the hobbit." Llorabell fought back a shiver at the dwarf’s sharp stare. Blue eyes seemed to sear straight through her. Thorin’s entire appearance was one of authority and she seemed to have left him wanting. “Tell me, axe or sword?”

 

“What?” Llorabell asked as she tried to not squirm like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

 

The annoyance that flickered across his face told her she was trying the dwarf’s patience. “At least you seem to know how to dress for travel." With that the dwarves went back into the dining room, leaving Gandalf and Llorabell at the entry. Gandalf’s relieved expression was not making Llorabell feel any better about the entire situation.

 

Once Thorin was given dinner the reason all thirteen dwarves and Gandalf were in her home came to light. Llorabell didn’t know what to think as the group began discussing an adventure.

 

She felt less then thrilled as they explained that they were going to get their treasure from a dragon. She became mildly faint at learning that she was going to be the burglar. The contract made the light headed feeling grow at the list of all the things that could be done to her. Bofur’s helpful descriptions of Smaug the Terrible sent her falling flat on her back.

  
When she woke up it took Llorabell a few minutes of thought and some talking with Gandalf before she signed the contract. A hobbit Gandalf decides to take on an adventure will go whether or not they really want to after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was made younger than cannon because if he was a she and wanted to be a respectable hobbit as much as he appears to at the beginning of the story he would have been married and with three kids running around. So Bilbo is around 33 years old in this story.
> 
> I could explain this reasoning in more depth if desired but I don't want to bore you.
> 
> This cape is basically what hers looks like: http://www.socialbliss.com/lieb-ma-1/etsy-GY3TGNBQ/dark-green-cloak-wool-coat-hooded-cape-women-winter-wool-by-malieb-GMZTMNRSGY
> 
> Hobbit words I made up:  
> galerim -- Chakram -- they are actual weapons -- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chakram best known by most form the Xena tv show  
> undnum -- heart guiding charms  
> Moar Evunal -- Swift Return  
> bevorin -- a traditional thin metal disk used for cooking during the wandering years, usually highly decorative in appearance but good for cooking fish  
> Ori Saindake hilua. -- You, may Yavanna guide.  
> Saindake. -- Yavanna may
> 
> Edited 6/20/14


	2. Over the Hill and Far Away

Chapter Two: Over the Hill and Far Away

 

It wasn’t long after Llorabell pulled together bedding for all the dwarves and wizard that she finally found a moment alone with Gandalf. The elderly man leaned against the wall by the back door, staring up into the cloudy night that only a few stars peeked out through.

 

“Gandalf?” Llorabell asked as she closed the door. “Do they know I’m a woman? The way they address me makes me think not."

 

The wizard hummed as he pulled out his pipe and, with a snap of his fingers, lit it.  After a few minutes puffing away at it he finally spoke up. “I informed them of who you are, of course. They will call you Bilbo throughout this adventure. That is your name after all and the name you signed the contract with."

 

Llorabell frowned over the wizards words but nodded all the same. “Alright." As long as they were aware Llorabell was fine with going. It wouldn’t be right going with them unaware. The wizard and hobbit fell into a companionable silence. The smell of old toby reminding Llorabell of her father and evenings playing back here amongst the plants and fireflies. She was almost lulled to sleep on the stone bench as a vibrating rumble filtered through the kitchen window nearby.

 

“Far over the Misty Mountains Cold...."

 

They left Hobbiton with the sunrise. Llorabell quickly got ready and amazingly remembered all her gear. Meeting the dwarves outside as the sun crested over the hills and the crisp dawn mist settling heavily over them was daunting. She couldn’t help but pause at the threshold of her door. The adventure began as soon as she took her first step outside her door.

 

“Hobbit, lets be off." Ordered Thorin. Llorabell took a deep breath and stepped out, closing the door with a resounding click behind her. She looked up and stared over all the dwarves and one wizard. Someone had gone into town and brought back a string of ponies. She could count sixteen ponies and a horse. “Someone get Mister Baggins a pony."

 

“Wait, what?” Gasped Llorabell, the hint of sleep vanished from her mind. Hobbits didn’t ride ponies. They were built for nomadic life but that involved walking not riding mean spirited beasts three times their size. “I can walk."

 

“Nonsense Mister Baggins. We won’t be able to have ponies the entire way so we will be using them for the time we can." Explained Balin kindly, as if he was speaking to a child. “You will be thankful that we have them in the end."

 

Llorabell frown at the white haired dwarf in mild annoyance but walked over to the pony Kili was waving her over to. Hobbits had jennets for long rides because they could control the animal easier. The pony she was given was like the others in having slightly longer hair then the ponies of the Shire. It was just as brown as the others too.  “Myrtle's our most patient pony Mister Boggins." Explained Kili as he helped her up with a grin. “She’ll follow any of us in front so you have no worries of wandering off. Just try and keep her from snatching any meals along the trek."

 

She nodded in understanding and muttered a pained thanks. She didn’t want to be riding a pony but she seemed to have no choice. The day seemed to fly by with Llorabell studiously ignoring the looks all the hobbits they past gave. She would be the talk of the Shire for months.

 

It took a week, without break for any meals beyond first breakfast and dinner, for them to reach Bree. The dwarves spent the days joking around and singing ridiculous songs or making poems up on the spot. Yet there seemed to be a barrier between her and the dwarves.  Besides the odd joking comments from Fili, Kili or Bofur, the ride had held a stilted presence. She was ignored for the most part.

 

The few times she had tried to make conversation with some of the dwarves she had been rebuffed by their nonsense response. Grumbling to questions told her how welcome she was. The only one Llorabell felt truly comfortable making conversation with was Gandalf and he was up at the front of the line with Thorin most of the time or he would be gone entirely off doing wizarding things.

 

The evenings were better. They would spend nights in the local inn or a hobbit’s barn. Llorabell was able to get news and gossip from the hobbits they stayed with while the dwarves continued to ignore her. Once they got to Bree Llorabell enjoyed sitting away from the dwarves and conversing quietly with some of the hobbits there too, even if their conversations consisted of worries over drought and some type of disease affecting much of the spring vegetable plants. It was better than grumbles. It was more welcome than ill placed humor.

 

After Bree, they traveled in much the same manner except there was no inn to rest at on most nights. Llorabell did what she could to help. She collect firewood and help cook but she continued to be only politely spoken to and that politeness was more distant dislike, it seemed, as it never let up. Even the three dwarves that tried to break the ice with humor were distant and polite (or as polite as one can be calling her Mister Boggins day in and day out).

 

It was about another week into the traveling that Llorabell finally started to notice something even more frustrating. Until now she had avoided paying any mind to the rude dwarves and instead looked out over the too dry and yellowed land (it was spring! There should be more green!). One could stare out at plants for only so long, though. So she would find herself watching the dwarves in small spurts. If she had allowed herself to watch for more than a few minutes at a time she would have noticed sooner. They were having conversations with their hands.

 

Llorabell had read about hand languages. She had never seen one in action though. It was frustrating and it hurt knowing her companions choose to exclude her. She didn’t belong. They were making sure she knew it.

 

Sometimes it seemed like they were starting to open up only for it to be a lie. One evening while she carefully embroidered the symbol for Bree across its proper spot on her cloak, Gloin came up to her and asked, “Why are ya always mending that cape, lad? It not of good quality?” Llorabell paused in her embroidery to explain, to only find Gloin had already moved away to talk with another. The general burst of sniggers from Kili and Fili over Gloin’s remark didn’t help matters.

 

The songs the dwarves bursted into, most often instigated by Bofur or Kili, did give a vague sense of companionship. Not enough to comfort her since they never sang a song she knew. They were entertaining, crase, and vibrant songs but she felt excluded with not knowing the lyrics.

 

In the end, Llorabell Baggins was simply “The Hobbit” or “The Burglar” to the dwarves. She wasn’t a dwarf. She wasn’t a fighter. She was baggage the wizard brought along.

 

It was a month of boredom and increasing mental questions over why she had come, why had Gandalf insisted that she’d be the company’s burglar. The scenery never really changed either. There was the one time they had gone through a small forested area during a deluge and learned of the true skills of wizards were but, beyond that, it just seemed like one giant land of yellowed, rolling hills only broken by tiny farming villages.

 

By the time they reached the outskirts of the Trollshaws, Llorabell was seriously considering going back home or breaking from the group and going to Rivendell. She was tired of trying and failing at becoming part of the group. She was tired of riding a pony. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed for a month. She wanted her proper number of meals again.

 

They stopped by a partly destroyed farm house and made camp. Llorabell was just close enough to hear part of the arguments between Gandalf and Thorin as she prepped food for their stew.

 

“We have a map we cannot read!” Cried Gandalf in frustration. “There would be someone in Rivendell that would be able to help."

 

“I will not take aid from the enemy." Snarled Thorin.

 

Not long after, Gandalf left. The hobbit was not happy but continued doing her part in setting up the camp. Bofur handed her two bowls to take to Fili and Kili who were watching the ponies as they grazed.

 

“I brought dinner." Llorabell stepped up besides the two brothers. When neither went to take the bowls, the hobbit looked over at them. Their twin expressions of confused worry made her ask, “What’s the matter?”

 

“Well." Kili paused, unsure how to phrase his concerns.

 

“We have a slight problem." Admitted Fili. “We were supposed to watch the ponies." At the word “supposed”, Llorabell’s stomach dropped.

 

“There were sixteen." Explained Kili. Llorabell turned towards the ponies and started counting them.

 

At the moment she realized there was only fourteen, Fili finished their explanation, “There’s only fourteen now."

 

“Oh." Breathed out Llorabell. “Shouldn’t we go tell the others?”

 

“No, no lets not worry them." Said Kili quickly.

 

Llorabell opened her mouth to counter that foolish idea when the ground shook slightly. Turning towards the origin, the three of them crouched as one at the sight of the large creature walking by carrying two ponies. “Is that-”

 

“Troll." Hissed Fili before he and Kili ran into the forest after it. Llorabell hurried after them. A flickering fire light peeked out between the foliage before them. It took a little movement around before the three found a proper view of the fire. There were three trolls sitting around a giant fire. An equally huge cauldron hung above it. Four of their ponies stood trembling in a roped off section behind the trolls.

 

“They’ve got Myrtle." Grumbled Llorabell, a slight hitch in her breath. She had grown to like that pony. “We should get the others."

 

“No, no." Whispered Kili before he and Fili shared a look. “We were actually thinking.."

 

“You’re our burglar, go burglar our ponies." Explained Fili in his own whisper.

 

Kili pushed Llorabell towards the trolls, while Fili took the bowls from her hands. “If you need us hoot once as a barn owl and twice as a brown owl."

 

Llorabell twirled around back at the two dwarves. “Wha-” They were gone. Llorabell stared helplessly at the empty forest. She didn’t want to do this. It was so foolish. But, she couldn’t help think that maybe she would be welcomed in the group if she did this.

 

Llorabell slowly skirted the trolls camp and moved as quickly as she dared to the ponies. She was going to be eaten. When she saw her ma and pa, Llorabell was going to explain Gandalf’s foolish plan and how it all was a bunch of dwarves fault they would never be grandparents. Maybe her kin would use this as a tale to warn foolish tweens from going off on adventures.

 

“Now don’t be foolish my lad, if you go off on an adventure you’ll end up just like sweet innocent Llorabell Baggins and become stew meat for trolls!”

 

The hobbit lass reached the ponies without incident. After a moment of tugging at the rope, Llorabell pulled one of her throwing knives from her belt and began sawing away. She paused with a repressed tremble whenever one of the trolls shifted anywhere near her direction. She firmly ignored the trolls whining conversation over only having mutton to eat and hoped that Yavanna was hiding her from their sight.

 

Finally the rope came apart and Llorabell stepped back to let the ponies free. The trolls turned with shouts towards their fleeing food. None of them look over at their pen as they rushed off after the ponies. Llorabell stared after in horror. The trolls were running towards the camp.

 

Llorabell snapped out of her indecision on what to do at the shouts that came through the trees.  She pulled out two of her throwing axes and ran. The sounds of metal and war cries quite suddenly stopped as she reached the edge of the forest. Llorabell stilled behind some bushes as she watched in horror at the troll holding Ori upside down. The other dwarves all dropped their weapons on command.

 

One of the trolls scooped up their weapons and the other two forced the dwarves back towards their own camp. Llorabell stayed crouching behind the bush for some time, her mind a whirl of horrid thoughts. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t save them. She was just a little hobbit.

 

Llorabell stood up and nodded at her thoughts. It was too late and she would never be able to save them. So she would go home.. or..or Rivendell and forget this ever happened.

 

The little hobbit got only a few feet away from the forest before she stopped again. Llorabell gave a slight shake, twirled around and ran back towards the troll camp. She had to try something.

 

The trolls were just finishing tying dwarves to a log when she made it to the camp. Half the dwarves were tied up in bags and the other half were being hung over the fire. The little hobbit fiddled with her cape as she watched, trying to think of something. The trolls had tossed all the dwarven armor in a pile besides their weapons. If she could just free them and get them to their weapons there may be a chance.

 

It would have to be a big distraction. The little hobbit paused at that thought. She could ask for help. The little hobbit hesitated for a second more. What she could do was not something she should as it could reveal secrets that should never be known.

 

Llorabell straightened up with determination before slipping further back into the forest. There she started whispering out a song in the earth tongue. The whispers of the world didn’t change for sometime. Llorabell was beginning to think she would get no aid until a branch shifted from the tree in front of her and lightly tapped her head.

 

Llorabell smiled at that. The trees would aid her. With that Llorabell ran quickly, silently to the other side of the camp and slowly snuck up to the dwarves in sacks. A few moments of waiting was all that was left.

 

The loud roaring bang the trees created caught the trolls attention immediately. The second bang had all three running off to “destroy the bastards that wanted their dinner”. Llorabell pulled out one of her knives and was at Thorin’s side within seconds.

 

“Burglar!” Shouted Kili in relieved excitement. Llorabell wasn’t as thrilled by his shout. She just finished cutting free Balin when crashing came back towards them. Thorin was part way out of the bag but she was the only one with weapons of any type. Llorabell handed her dagger to the dwarf king and moved away from the partly freed dwarves. She had to give them time.

 

One of the trolls crashed through the foliage roaring, “What burglar?” His beady eyes landed on Llorabell and lunged. She was able to dodge the first two strikes but the second rattled the ground hard enough to knock her off her feet. It lifted her up by one of her ankles. “What ya now?” It’s beady eyes were narrowed. “Not a dwarf."

 

Llorabell reacted in panic by pulling out another dagger and slamming it up into the trolls wrist. It dropped her and she stumbled back. Crashes from the trees  announced the return of the other trolls.

 

Llorabell pulled one of her throwing axes out as the first troll roared at her. It lunged again. The little hobbit reacted instinctively, throwing her axe up to meet the troll. Then her mind caught up with her and she dodged.

 

The troll slammed into the ground as the other two broke into the small clearing. The shaking of the ground made her fall again. Looking up, Llorabell had the perfect view of the downed troll. Her axe was wedged into its jugular. She had just killed a troll. That thought echoed through her mind as she stared in shock.

 

The clearing was filled with silence for a moment before the two trolls roared in pure rage and the dwarves shouted a mixture of cheers and warnings to get out of there. Llorabell quickly stumbled back up and pulled out two more throwing axes.

 

“Hand me one." Order Thorin as he pulled one from her hand. Llorabell handed the other to Balin and began to pull out her last two when a loud crack filled the air.

 

“Dawn take you all, and be stone to you!” Yelled a familiar voice as the light of dawn filled the clearing from where a large boulder had just been broken in half. The two trolls shuddered as their bodies turned to stone. Balin quickly yanked her throwing axe out of the dead troll as the light sank low enough to hit the body, also turning it to stone.

 

Gandalf walked down to them as Kili, Gloin, Fili and Oin all finished getting out of the bags. Llorabell took her axes and cleaned the one Balin saved from turning to stone. With Gandalf’s help they got the rest of the dwarves back to the ground and dressed. The hobbit lass stood silently staring down at the troll she had somehow killed. Pure luck but all the same, she had done that. No one back home would believe little Llorabell Baggins had taken down a troll.

 

“Burglar." Llorabell looked up to find the entire company just staring at her, “Exactly what was that?” Demanded Thorin.

 

Annoyance filled her at his demands. What had he expected? her just leaving them? “Couldn’t just leave you lot to become troll dinner now could I?”

 

Their expressions told her that they had thought just that. She frowned at them before turning away. “I’ll go see about our ponies."

 

“Burglar-”

 

“There must be a cave around here!” Gandalf interrupted from his place by the stone trolls. “They could not have moved in daylight." The wizard rubbed his hands together in staged excitement. “Trolls like to hoard things. There should be some gold at least."

 

At the word gold all the dwarves perked up and were soon splitting off in different directions in search of the cave. Llorabell caught Gandalf’s stare for a moment. His wink before he pronounced to Thorin, who was still staring at Llorabell, “The cave should be in this direction. If in question always follow the most worn path” made her smile. Thorin followed the wizard after a moment longer. She still had Gandalf looking out for her.

 

Llorabell ended up finding no ponies. After an hour of looking she returned to their camp to find that most of the dwarves had returned and had righted the mess of their things. She pulled together her possessions - her embroidery items were still out along side her still full bowl of stew and bed roll.

 

“Ah Burg- Mister Bilbo, you needn’t put away your bedroll just yet. I believe we all could use some proper rest after last night." Spoke up Balin. “We’ll see what Thorin has to say on the matter, of course."

 

The rest of the dwarves and Gandalf soon joined them. Quick orders for the camp to be moved into the forest for shade were made. They would take a few hours of the morning to get some sleep.

 

Gandalf pulled Llorabell to the side as Bombur started pulling out more food for everyone before the short rest. “Here, this should do nicely for you." Said the wizard as he handed her a knife, though it was more like a sword by Hobbit standards. “It is elvish made and will glow blue in the presences of orcs."

 

Llorabell took the weapon up and traced the swirled design of the handle. “I’ve little knowledge or skill with a sword, Gandalf."

 

“So I would hope of a gentle hobbit of the Shire but there may be a time you will need a blade."

 

A snort from Dwalin only added something to Llorabell’s strangled stare. The dwarf explained, “You’re aware that our hobbit was the one that took down the troll, right?”

 

Gandalf started at that. “I had thought Thorin or Balin had done that."

 

Llorabell ignored the input of the other dwarves as they all cheerfully gave details of what their burglar had done. She pulled her cape off and secured the small blade to her left, just before the set of throwing daggers on her belt.  The cape didn’t get in the way of pulling her weapons out with the slits built in like large pockets on each side but it did with adding another sheath to the belt.

 

“Ya got quite a few blades on yerself."

 

Llorabell huffed out as she looked up at Nori. “Yes and they have been on me since we left my home Master Nori." The star haired dwarf hummed as he handed her a bowl of new stew.

 

Food and sleep sounded lovely. “Thank you."

 

Nori answered back, his voice tinged with intrigue. “These are of dwarvish make. Are they all a matching set?”

 

Llorabell stared blankly at the two throwing dagger in Nori’s hands. Her own hand fell to her belt and felt two empty sheath.

 

“Knew our hobbit had good tastes!” Hooted Gloin as he took one of the daggers and looked it over carefully. “What these here markings mean, lad?” Llorabell didn’t bother answering as the two daggers were passed around the entire company and each asked questions they seemed to not expect an answer to or at least they shouldn’t as Llorabell was not going to tell them what the earthen tongue engraved on the blades meant nor could she tell them the details on the blades’ forging.

 

It was when one of the blades made it to Oin that things got interesting. The near deaf dwarf pulled some of the leather of the handle up, revealing the odd runes inscribed on each blade handle, and almost immediately began exclaiming. “Khajima âzyungaz! Khajima âzyungaz!”

 

The rest of the dwarves were shouting back and forth and her blades were searched more thoroughly. Thorin stepped up to her with barely suppressed anger. “More a burglar than a grocer it seems."

 

“What?”

 

“You will give us what you have stolen and we will see it returned to its owner, burglar." Ordered Thorin.

 

“I have never stolen anything in my life!” Cried Llorabell. The scowl that crossed not only Thorin’s face but the other dwarves made her take a step back. “What do you claim I stole?”

 

Balin spoke up, voice as cold as Throin’s, “These blades are not yours, halfling. They were not crafted for you. We will have them returned to the lady they belong to."

 

Llorabell stared for a second before pulling a dagger out and looking over it herself. They didn’t look all that feminine to her. “How do you even know they’re for a lady? And why wouldn’t they be mine for that matter?”

 

“Don’t be a fool." Snarled Gloin.

 

The hobbit scowled back at them. They were being ridiculous! “You can’t return them to their owner. My great grandma has been long since dead and the dwarf that made them for her was killed in some battle! But if you insist on taking them from me then fine!” She pulled her belt off. “I’m sure my cousins will understand why I come home without them. No one’s going to be outraged at me for losing courtship gifts of hers!”

 

Llorabell ignored the dwarves as she pulled her new sword off and tossed her belt at Thorin. Then she yanked the daggers from her boots and slapped them into the dwarf kings arms. A hand grabbed her arm as she moved to unstrap the axes from her thigh. She glared up at Bofur. “Lad, we didn’t...ya can have them back."

 

The little hobbit made a noise in the back of her throat and pulled her arm from the dwarf. She turned and stomped away, fleeing so she didn’t fall to the urge of speaking curse words she overheard in the Prancing Pony and from the dwarves themselves. It would be most improper and she was a proper hobbit no matter the adventure business she had been dragged into. She firmly ignored the quiet voice in her head as it whispered that she had never had an urge to curse anyone out nor had she know any cuss words before all this. Dwarves, a bunch of cold, stubborn, rude fools!

 

It was Gandalf that finally came to get her some hours later. He silently sat down on the broken boulder and joined her staring off at the stone trolls. The wizard pulled out his pipe and quietly puffed away for a few minutes.

 

“My dear Bilbo, the dwarrow folk can be as stubborn as the stone they shape. There are things they have learned over the many years that shape their actions. Dwarves have a natural mistrust towards others and at times they do before they think. They were not aware that hobbits and dwarves have coupled in the past." Gandalf took a deep puff and breathed out smoke shaped like a boat. “I wasn’t aware of such, in fact."

 

Llorabell hummed back at Gandalf, not bothering to give an answer to the unasked question. There were tales of interracial bondings, though none with elves. They happened a very long time ago.

 

“Well." Gandalf tapped clear his pipe and rose. “It is time we part from these woods. Here is your belt and blades. Come along."

 

They returned to the dwarves and began their trek towards the Misty Mountains. Thorin and Gandalf argued for most of the walk that day. Gandalf was continuing their argument from the other day. He was insistent that they stop at Rivendell. Thorin was less than inclined to go.

 

That evening, while she sat slightly away from the others but still close enough to see what she was embroidering, Ori sat down besides her.

 

“Excuse me Mister Baggins but may I ask you a few questions?” The young dwarf sat determined besides her, a pen and his journal out and ready. Llorabell hummed back an agreement as she finished the first of three swirled designs that represented trolls.

 

“Are you part dwarf because of your great grandmother?”

 

Llorabell paused to trade out her thread for the silver wire before answering with a shake of her head. “No. She... well.. She was actually my many great grandma. She lived when we hobbits were still wandering folk. The dwarf and she were courting but he was killed in battle before the courtship concluded or led to any children." Llorabell looked up at Ori with a sad smile. “Meralla Took would have never married after losing him either but her brothers all ended up dead without any children. She married and had a boy to keep the Took clan alive. She was considered rather old by the time that happened though. She would be thought of as a spinster now a days."

 

“Spinster?” Asked Ori in confusion.

 

Llorabell watched Ori write as she explained, “It’s a term of phrase directed at women that don’t marry and don’t have children. It’s consider improper-- how are you writing that all without any ink well?”

 

Ori frowned up at her for a second, his thoughts clearly going over the first part of her words. The frown turned into a shy smile and he held out his pen. “It has a built in inkwell. Good for traveling but rather expensive. Nori got it for me when I completed my apprenticeship."

 

“And how exactly did he get ahold of that." Muttered Dwalin a few feet away.

 

Llorabell ignored the grumbling exchange Nori and Dwalin started having as she looked with interest at the pen. “It’s a wonderfully useful idea. I’ll have to see about getting one someday. But whatever did you apprentice in, if its not rude of me to ask?”

 

Ori smiled cheerfully back before it dropped a little. His hand flew up to one of his braids in mild confusion. “I’m a scribe Mister Baggins. Is my bead gone or something?”

 

“Oh!” Llorabell’s eyes widened at that, “You’re beads mean something important like that?”

 

“Aye, that they do." Gloin plopped down on her other side. “Our beads and braids tell a number of things such as status within what craftsmen guild yer are, clan yer from, marriage status and the like."

 

Llorabell tilted her head back slightly to get a good look at the braid and bead Ori had check on. “I apologize. I had read that they meant something but I didn’t realize they were so informative."

 

“Do hobbits have anything similar?” Asked Ori.

 

“Well. A little maybe." Llorabell paused to think for a few moments. She had her undnum. The charms did tell somethings like her monetary status and who’s family she was from but most had very personal meanings.

 

After a few moments of thought Llorabell thought of something very obvious. It was just a everyday normal thing like Ori knowing that his beads would tell anyone his craft and his skill at it. Embroidery was to hobbits what beads were to dwarves. “We all embroider our clothing and certain symbols and such mean different things. The older, wealthier clans and families have their own colors even. Not all of us have the money or time to do much embroidery though so its not a perfect example I don’t think but it’s the closest we have."

 

“Really?” Ori looked intrigued and Llorabell watched as the dwarf’s eyes fell to her cape still sitting in her lap with silver wire threaded to highlight parts of the swirls she created for the trolls. “That’s what you're doing, embroidering your cape!”

 

“Yes but this is a little different." explained Llorabell with a smile. “It’s a wanderer’s cape. We traditionally embroider the tale of our travels on it. There are some we have from the wandering days that are filled with embroidery and basically have our history told across them, even if its from a single person's perspective." She traced the embroidery she had made so far. Would she end up filling this cape with history? Could she dare have so many adventures?

 

“You're using wire." Muttered Ori in fascination as he leaned in to take a better look.

 

“Oh yes both the Baggins clan and the Took clan colors involve wire, and I use both as my father was a Baggins and my mother a Took." Said Llorabell as she continued threading the thin wire. The next morning, Llorabell tried to ignore the stares from all the dwarves. They were all trying to get a good look at her cape but none of them asked to actually see it. If Llorabell didn’t know better she’d have to say the dwarves were acting shy but they had never acted remotely shy throughout the journey with all their raunchy songs and poems.

 

Two days past before they reached the end of Trollshaws. During those two days the dwarves had clearly warmed to Llorabell. Killing a troll and saving them from becoming stew meat had apparently been the thing she needed to be welcomed in the company with some level of camaraderie. (She should have done it weeks ago.) The fact that she was almost dwarf kin through her many great grandma seemed to have also help their opinion of her and hobbits in general.

 

Now the company stood watching as Gandalf tried one last time to convince Thorin on going to Rivendell. It wasn’t going very well, to the surprise of no one. A sudden howl cut the argument short.

 

“Is that a wolf?” Asked Llorabell, her mind going back to the fell winter and the horrors the hobbits had lived through. She pushed the whispers of old nightmares and memories back firmly.

 

“Ah, no. No, that ain’t a wolf." Responded a surprisingly grim Bofur. What appeared to be a giant wolf rushed down at them from atop a forested hill. Kili shot an arrow at it. The creature staggered for but a second, long enough for Dwalin to slam one of his war hammers down onto its back. A second giant wolf like creature pounced down onto Nori. Thorin’s new elvish blade sliced into the creature shoulder. A knife found its way into its neck and Nori rolled out from under the dead creature, pulling the knife out while he went.

 

“Warg scouts." Spat Thorin. More howls filled the air. He turned away from the forest with a grim face, “Run."

 

And ran they did. Their packs weighed them down but the company ran as fast as they could through the prairie land before them, Gandalf at the lead. They used the rock formations to keep something between them and the pack. The howls of wargs chased them as they followed the wizard.

 

Then the wargs were upon them. Wargs slammed into Bombur and Balin. Bofur rammed the bladed side of his mattock into the warg struggling to get past Bombur’s giant ladle. Dwalin bodyslammed the warg attacking his own brother.

 

Another growled from on top the mound of rock at their right. Looking up Llorabell shouted in horror, “Orc!” An arrow sprouting out of the orc’s head. Then the rest of the pack was attacking. Everything became a blur.

 

An orc and its warg attacked the hobbit. Llorabell dodged the sword and slammed her axe into the orc’s leg. A rock slammed precisely into the warg’s eye. She danced out of the way as the warg fell and sliced the orc’s shoulder down in a curved motion as it fell with it. Her hands trembled.

 

Three wargs charged her. She threw her axe. The warg dodged it. Gloin and Thorin exploded past her into the charging mess. An arrow took out one of the orc riders.

 

Fili fought besides Dwalin and Balin as they kept four wargs and their orc riders away from Ori and Kili. Bofur and Nori were tag teaming with Bifur against two riderless wargs. Bombur stood as guard over the ranged fighters. Oin and Gandalf were fighting three orcs who had gotten off their wargs.

 

Llorabell pulled out her galurims as one of the wargs fighting Dwalin broke past and charged Bombur. As she ran to help him, two other wargs rushed from tall grass from the back sides of Ori and Kili. Llorabell didn’t think, she simply let one of her circular blades fly. It carved across one of the wargs backs and slammed into the ground behind it. It’s back legs gave out. Kili, having followed Llorabell’s flying weapon, put it out of its misery.

 

An arrow not from Kili took out the second warg. A horn blared even as five more Orc bearing wargs moved to join the battle. Suddenly they were surrounded by horses, the warg riders having fled. Llorabell was standing in the middle of a circle of dwarves. She had no idea when they had moved.

 

Thorin hissed out, “Elves." His hand gripped his sword in a vice grip.

 

“Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn." Spoke one of the highly decorative riders.

 

Gandalf stepped forward with a relieved smile. “Elrond, gi suilon!”

 

The group of elves dismounted and all but two spread out to look over the battlefield. Elrond grasped Gandalf’s forearm and clapped him warmly on the back. “Mithrandir. Man le carel sí?”

 

“Aphado i Hadhodrim." Gandalf said as he waved his hand out at the company of dwarves. Thorin stepped forward, ready for battle.

 

“Man tôg?” Asked Elrond as he looks over them all before settling on the dwarf king. “Ah, Thorin son of Thrain, I bid you welcome. I offer you a place of rest and time for recovery for you and your companions at my home."

 

Thorin moved to speak but Gandalf intercepted, “Of course we accept." The wizard turned and stared hard at Thorin, “After such a battle and, the last few days, rest is just what this company needs."

 

“Of course." Bit out Thorin. With that the company slowly spread out through the battlefield to collect gear. Then they were off to Rivendell.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish conversation between Gandalf and Elrond:  
> Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn. -- A star shines on the hour of our meeting.
> 
> Elrond, gi suilon! --- Elrond, I greet you!
> 
> Mithrandir. Man le carel sí? -- Gandalf. What are you doing here? 
> 
> Aphado i Hadhodrim. --- I am traveling with a group of dwarves. (pulled this together myself so its not really correct)
> 
> Man tôg? --- Who Leads?
> 
> Dwarven phrases:  
> khajima âzyungaz -- A courting gift
> 
> Hobbittish/Earth Tongue:  
> undnum - heart guiding charms
> 
> edited: 6/20/14


	3. Rivendell

Chapter Three: Rivendell

Llorabell wondered if she could sink into her chair and vanish. Elves were playing music. Sunlight streamed through the trees and the elegant arches surrounding the courtyard. Lord Elrond sat off with Gandalf and Thorin. They were being all polite and noble and majestic.

She barely stopped herself from giggling at the sudden thought of Elrond and Thorin competing on who could be more majestic. She stared down at her wine cup that never seemed to empty thanks to the elvish servers. Perhaps she had drank too much.

Then Ori whined loudly about not liking green things and Oin stuffed his napkin into his hearing horn. Llorabell gulped down more wine. This wasn’t happening. The dwarves couldn’t possibly be this rude.

Kili pushed all the bland lettuce onto Dori’s plate when the silver haired dwarf wasn’t looking. Dori inturn confusedly pushed the greens from his plate onto Ori’s plate and demanded his brother to eat it. It was happening. She took another large gulp of wine.

Llorabell looked around desperately at the entire company. The only thing any of them were really eating was the bread. Nori was trying to cook a carrot over the tiny, decorative candle in front of him. Bofur and Bombur were eating the food that they were throwing into each other’s mouths (which was where the majority of the bread was going). Gloin and Dwalin had decided to forgo food. They were instead competing to see who could get drunk off pansy elf wine the fastest. Balin was sitting at her right with an air of amusement.

She looked to her left in one last desperate search for some respectability. Fili winked at her from behind Bifur before giving a vague toasting action and drained his cup. Llorabell felt her flush at the almost lecherous grin Fili sent her as an elf refilled his cup. The blond dwarf’s pinked cheeks indicated his inebriation so she ignored the flirtation.

Instead she turned to the last dwarf, who was sitting at her direct left. Bifur plucked some flowers of the bouquet decorating the table. He popped the flowers into his mouth before noticing her stare. The axe addled dwarf silently offered her a couple of flowers. She took another gulp of her wine before taking said flowers and resignedly popping them into her own mouth. It was already a lost cause and the flowers were surprisingly tasty.

The elf Lindir led the company to their own group of rooms attached to a courtyard before fleeing. Half the dwarves were drunk and the other half were grumpy with hunger so Llorabell couldn’t blame the elf for making a quick retreat. The hobbit lass happily headed to her own room.

Dwalin caught her by the waist and dragged her over to one corner of the courtyard. “Mister Dwalin let go!”

The powerful dwarf just laughed warmly and bodily lifted her so her struggles were useless. “Noow Lllad, yoour noot lleaving withoout a prooper mealll." Slurred out the drunken dwarf.

“What are you talking abou-”

 

The sounds of breaking wood jerked her focus to the rest of the dwarves. Gloin had broken a perfectly acceptable wooden table. The drunk redhead grinned almost evilly at her and shouted, “Firewood!” before laughing outrageously. The other, equally drunken, dwarves proceeded to break a few more wooden furniture pieces as the less drunk ones collected the wood and started up a fire.

Dwalin plopped down by the growing fire and settled Llorabell more comfortably in his lap. Balin chuckled warmly at her predicament. “Sorry Laddie, Dwalin claims small cuddly things when he’s drunk. You’ll just have to survive."

“Aye, I remember this one time when Dwalin took our rabbit. We ended up starving through the night wait for him to sober up enough to let us gut the thing." Chuckled Gloin as he stumbled to the ground. Dwalin had lost the ability to speak properly and Gloin had lost his balance. Maybe the red haired dwarf hadn’t purposely broken that wooden table.

“I want a cuddly hobbit." Whined Kili as he grinned wickedly at Llorabell. While Kili was obviously sober, Fili was not. The blond dwarf lunged forward, over Gloin with a shout of “mine” and tried to pull her out off Dwalin’s lap. Dwalin whacked Fili back and then lunged at him.

Llorabell fell to the ground with a soft thud. She quickly placed herself between the sober Dori and Nori. Nori handed her a skewer with a couple of sausages and a few random carrots secured onto it. The prospect of meat ended the impromptu spare quickly and all the dwarves were soon sitting back enjoying the evening.

As all the other nights, the dwarves joked and sang. This time though Bofur kept singing songs in khuzdul, songs that made all the other dwarves blush. The songs sounded dirty to even Llorabell (though that was more because of the leering and highly vulgar body and hand motions the drunken miner made to explain the song for her).

Bombur kept muttering apologies to her and explaining how Bofur wasn’t usually allowed to get this drunk. Fili, Gloin, and Dwalin took it upon themselves to out do the singing dwarf with what could only by limericks in khuzdul (they thankfully didn’t add any helpful body motions or facial expressions).

The night grew old but Llorabell found herself relaxing, impart because of the wine running through her. She couldn’t help but enjoy the ridiculousness of the situation.  Llorabell had never had anyone act so outrageously in front of her and once she had gotten over the shock of it, the hobbit found herself laughing and smiling at the dwarves antics. Even the grump of a dwarf, Thorin, was relaxing and smiling.

Over the drunken actions of half the company, Llorabell was pulled into a conversation with Dori about braids and beads and what they meant or could mean (It would be many months later that she’d realize that Dori had been very drunk indeed to have talk about so many dwarven secrets with her). “The more complexity, the greater the meaning. My head braids mark me as, well, the head of the glassblowers guild. The ones in my beard, combined with the bead, marks me as the head of my household and that we have Durin blood in us."

Dori continued, “Gloin’s beads mark that he’s married and the number shows his pride in his marriage by stating its been four decades. His braid and bead combo state that he’s part of the stonecrafter guild. Thorin’s, Fili’s, and Kili’s clasps state their Durin’s blood and of the direct line, specifically. You’d have to know some khzudul and meanings of symbols to really know what our beads state. For braids, though, we have some basic ones. Each of the seven lines have a specific braid. There’s a crafter’s braid. The bead you place in that braid will tell you what guild the dwarf is in. Not all braids mean anything though."

Llorabell stared wide eyed. “It sounds confusing." She looked over at all the dwarrow and frowned, “Wouldn’t a king have intricate braids?”

“Ah, well..." Dori looked uncomfortable.

Nori spoke up from besides her, explaining as he stabbed more carrots and meat onto his skewer, “He has a braid marking him as Durin’s blood heir and a master smith. That is all he chooses to claim without a kingdom. Balin and Dwalin both bare no braids until he sits upon his throne or King Thrain is found." Nori looked up with a frown, “Though the map and key Gandalf gave Thorin basically indication enough to know his majesty is gone from this world."

She hesitated for a second before asking, “And Kili?”

Nori gave a slight grin, “Lad came of age not too long ago. He’s determined that he’ll not place braids within his hair until he has crafted his beads and will not make them unless in Erebor or after the quest, if it fails. Took out the braids he had in. Children have braids that state the major age stages they’ve been through and family members create beads you choose to wear or not. The younger yer are the more likely ya will have the family beads in yer hair. That’s what most of Ori’s beads are."

“Oh." Llorabell tilted her head in thought, barely stifling a giggle as she found herself leaning against Nori for a second. “Sorry." She muttered, but couldn’t get herself to move. She turned to see Nori proper. She vaguely noticed she was much too close to the dwarf. Nori had an amusedly raised, braided, brow. His dark eyes stared into her own and for but a strange second she felt like leaning the rest of the way in. Then her eyes fell to his beard and her mind woke back up. She sat up proper and asked, “What does your braids and beads mean? In fact, what do everyone’s mean?”

Nori grinned cheekily at her, “I’m a master locksmith. Not the head or nothing like that but I’ve gotten up there in the hierarchy now a’days. Also got the bead stating I’m of Durin’s blood. That’s about it."  He rubbed his hand over the middle part of his beard for a moment, thoughtfully looking at all the other dwarves. Nori continued to explain, “Fili has his bead and braid marking him as Durin’s direct line’s heir of the heir. He’s Thorin’s heir, basically. He also has his craftsmen beads and braids. He’s has two crafts. Fili is a silversmith and a musician."

Dori took over the conversation, “He also wears his family beads still, which you can wear all you like. I myself still wear mine. It’s not just young dwarves that wear them but the younger dwarves usually have them more visibly obvious."

“Now, I don’t rightly know the details of Bofur’s, Bombur’s, and Bifur’s." Interrupted Nori.

Ori leaned over Dori as his oldest brother gave an annoyed look at Nori. “Bifur’s long bead is marking him as head of their family or clan as you might want to think of dwarf families. The other bead marks him as a 'abanizûghel. Ah, I mean he’s got stonesense. Anyway, Bofur and Bombur don’t have any obvious beads but some of us weave our beads in a way that you can’t actually see them. Nori got all his family beads weaved into his beard, for instance."

Dori’s scowl faded to surprise at Ori’s last statement. Llorabell glanced over at Nori to find the locksmith was studiously ignoring Dori. The drunk hobbit wisely chose to stay out of the family issues.

“So do they have crafts? Bofur and Bombur?” Asked Llorabell.

“Of course but they might not have joined a guild." Explained Dori. “They’re originally from Moria so who knows."

Llorabell frowned, “What does that have to do with their craft?”

“Guilds can choose to not let ya join." Explained Nori, his voice had dropped an octave.

Ori pushed in between Dori and Llorabell before explaining as his older brothers started brooding (and showing the family resemblance more than ever). “Guilds are localized in specific regions. Braids and beads and all are basically identical from guild to guild for each craft so there’s no worries about confusions on that but well... You can’t be part of a guild in Ered Luin and a guild in the Iron Hills." Ori tugged nervously at his knitted gloves. “Guilds control most of the trade for that craft and they can decide who is part of the guild and isn’t. Refugee’s rarely are allowed into the guild of the area they flee to. We are part of the remnants of Erebor guilds. I’m lucky that the scribe guild survived otherwise I’d be guildless too. That doesn’t mean refugee’s can’t work with their craft but they are the last on the list and the local guild gets between a half to three fourths of the jobs pay."

“Oh." Breathed Llorabell.

Nori suddenly pulled out a silver piece and held it up for Bofur to see. Llorabell watched in confusion as Bofur, apparently in conflict about something, grinned at Nori and moved his hand down and made a questioning motion. Nori made a different hand motion. The two dwarves grinned at each other before Bofur called out to Bombur. The miner tossed his sausage at his redheaded brother.  

The bench broke from under Bombur. Everyone broke down into laughter and Nori’s coin was flipped into Bofur’s hand. The rest of the night continued along the same line.

The next morning Llorabell awoke to faint howls and screams. The little hobbit lay still as her mind cleared away the last of forgotten nightmares. The pounding helped knock the last hints of terrors the alcohol kept at bay. It took a few minutes to realize that it was the door and not her head. The hobbit groaned out that she was sleeping. Some rumbling response she couldn’t get herself to understand came through the door.

Finally Llorabell rolled out of bed and pulled her bindings and inner tunic on. Being hungover was no excuse to allow people that were not her traveling companions know she was a she. Anyway, it had become second nature to tighten the bindings every morning (which consisted of a quick pull on either side of her waist). Walking around without the bindings was strange, liberating but strange.

Yanking her door open, Llorabell growled out into a dwarven chest, “Wha?”

Warm chuckles were Dwalin’s response before Gloin said with a wide grin. “Now lad if ya can’t take the drink ya shouldn’t be drinkin’ it."

Llorabell turned from Dwalin’s chest to glare at Gloin. Kili, standing behind the two dwarves explained their presence with a helpless grin, “I was telling everyone about the throwing weapon of yours. The one that dropped a warg’s back legs." At Llorabell’s blank stare he explained further, “Ah, the circle thing."

“Grab your weapons laddie. We have a training area the tree-shagger’s given us and we need to know your skills and weapons." Said Dwalin before he stomped off.

Llorabell followed Kili out to the training field a few minutes later. There the rest of the company were split off in pairs for spares. Even Ori was fighting.

The young dwarf was using one of Dwalin’s hammers against Dori. Nori and Oin were fighting with their staff like weapons and Thorin was working with Fili on the younger’s sword work. Bofur was fighting against Dwalin. Gloin was working with Bombur. Bifur and Balin were in the middle of a more complicated spare with their varying weapons clashing.

“Alright, Bilbo you have to show us the circle weapon!” crowed Kili as he almost skipped over to the company. The spars came to quick ends as the rest of the dwarves turned with interest to their burglar.

Llorabell shifted uncomfortably at the undivided attention of all the dwarves. “Well its not that interesting. I mean I’m not a fighter. Some of my cousins could give you a better demonstration of the galurims use."

“Galurim?” asked Balin in open interest. Ori pulled out a journal and pen.

The little hobbit lass sighed as she pulled on her gloves before she pulled one of the galurims out. “This is a traditional weapon of ours called a galurim." Llorabell carefully handed the weapon over to Kili. “The entire outer part is sharpened." She warned as she pulled out her other galurim. “They can be used as both short and long distance. I only have the very basics down for using them."

The dwarves passed the one around carefully, appreciative mutters floating around. Dori frowned over it and asked, “How do you hold this Mister Bilbo? I don’t see how you could use such a weapon with it being sharpened all around."

Llorabell opened her free hand out to the dwarves, showing the chainmail covering the inside of her glove. Gloin immediately grabbed her hand to get a better look with Dwalin.

“Um.." Llorabell tried to focus on Dori’s questions as the the two dwarves broke into an excited conversation in khuzdul. “The gloves protect my hand and part of the close range fighting can be done with the blade on our arm like a bracele- What are you doing?”

Gloin pulled off the leather cover for the metal plate on the back of her hands revealing the highly decorative swirl designs. Appreciative noises were made by the dwarves. Dwalin pulled one of her daggers out to compare the design with the glove’s.

After a few minutes of the dwarves all looking over her weapons and glove Kili spoke up again, “So how do you throw this?”

Llorabell took the galurim up and moved to one of the targets. With a twist she sent the galurim flying through the hay target. “There." The little hobbit said with a proud smile. She was really getting the hang of throwing the weapons. She looked over at the dwarves, they all had various degrees of appreciation even Thorin looked intrigued. They dwarves continued to asked some questions and had her demonstrate throwing the weapon a few more times. But soon they were all breaking back out into sparing groups, all the while discussing her circular blades.

Nori and Dwalin came up to Llorabell. “Well lad lets see what else you can do with those blades." Dwalin said. “Nori is better at throwing weapons but I want to see your close range fighting with those circles."

“Well pull out those pretty little blades of yers and show us what ya can do with ‘em." Ordered Nori as he leaned onto his odd mining staff.  Llorabell did as told and threw all her weapons at the targets Nori shot out quick fire orders for her to hit. Nori used his staff to nudge her legs and slid his hands almost flirtatiously over her shoulders, arms and hips into better posture. Or at least that was what it seemed with how he didn’t hold any reservation on touching her and getting closer than what she had always known was appropriate. It could, of course, be a simply cultural difference.

The company paused for food when a group of elves brought out breads, cheeses, nuts, water, and fruits for them to enjoy. Everyone had their fill while grumbling over the continued lack of meat. After that the majority of the group broke apart with Nori, Dwalin and Fili staying behind to work with Llorabell. The others dispersed in groups to investigate the elvish city.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as Llorabell traded off sparing with Dwalin, Nori and Fili. She got comfortable fighting in close range with a combination of her circular blades and her paper opener of a short sword. Nori and Fili were able to help her with a circular motioned fighting style that used her natural flexibility and light footedness while Dwalin focused on her learning to use her legs and arms to properly brace against blows of brute strength.

She learned more working with the three dwarves than she had the entire week with her kin. It showed how much hobbits were not fighters. Fili grinned down at her as he offered his hand. The blond dwarf had just bested her again.

“Right well, we’re done for the day." Order Dwalin. “We’ll continue this tomorrow and every day till we’re leaving."

Llorabell nodded in helpless agreement. Her body ached in places she didn’t know was possible but they had already run into trolls, wargs, and orcs. She would work as hard as needed to get some level of skill in fighting. The added benefit of being too tired to dream was nice. The wargs and orcs had forced forward memories best left in the dark.

Nori clapped her back as he walked past, “Yer more a distance fighter but the enemy always go for them when possible. That’s why ya gotta learn how to use that paper opener and circle blades good and proper." The red head gave a grin and wink, “Now if ya all sore I can help ya out with a little bit of a massage."

Fili laughed and added, “Oh yes our thief has nibble fingers Master Burglar." The blond grinned, “He’s very skilled but if you want a good pounding to loosen up some muscles you should get Dwalin or Dori." Blue eyes danced over her, “Of course I could help too."

Llorabell spluttered, her face turning into a tomato as she watched the two flirts santure off with Dwalin chuckling after them. She shook her head sharply. That had not just happened. That was just another cultural difference!

The blond lass scrambled off to her rooms to wash up before dinner. She firmly settled on cultural differences to explain away the dwarves behavior. They had accepted her into their fold - most of them at least. It was only natural they would start treating her differently. Llorabell would have to get used to their rambunctious, crud nature.

That night Gandalf dragged Llorabell to an important meeting between Lord Elrond and Thorin. She felt like she was intruding no matter how much she wanted to whack Thorin on the side of his head as he spoke coolly towards the elf lord. Balin’s less than diplomatic response to Thorin caving had been an eye opener. He had always come across as the diplomat of the company. Now Llorabell couldn’t help but wonder.

Dori was a glassblower. Nori was a locksmith turned thief. Gloin was a stonemason. Ori was a scribe. Bofur was a miner and toymaker. Oin was a healer. Did any of them have any diplomatic skill? Or was it just because they were interacting against their will with elves that it seemed lacking?

Llorabell left that meeting worrying over the hostilities between elf and dwarf. They had a few weeks before the map was readable under the moonlight. Would they survive living under elven hospitality that long?

“Why the long face Mister Bilbo?”

Llorabell looked up and gave a grimacing smile, “Master Bofur. Just wondering how we’re going to survive."

“Oh aye, the dragon will be a tough one to defeat." Agreed the cheerful miner. “Mighty difficult to take down a giant armored bird but that’s why we got ourselves three long distant fighters."

The hobbit shook her head at the explanation, “Ori uses a slingshot. And that wasn’t what I was worrying about."

Bofur shrugged with a grin at her, “What ya worrying about then?”

“Surviving Rivendell."

A startled laugh escaped Bofur. “I heard hobbits worry over food but hadn’t seen ya worrying all that much after asking about tea and second breakfast and such that first day. Ya needn’t worry we’ll figure out a way to get some more meat before we run out."

Llorabell smiled at Bofur, “I’m more worried that one of you will gut an elf and we end up being imprisoned or killed in retaliation."

“Ah." Bofur paused and Llorabell turn to look at him. The dwarf stared at her for a few seconds before smiling warmly at her and clapping her shoulder. “That’s why Dwalin and Gloin have been order to stay drunk."

The blonde stared at Bofur’s retreating back before asking generally, “That’s supposed to help the situation?” Bofur simply laughed in response.

The next morning Llorabell once again awoke to pounding on her door. Dragging her sore body out of bed was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. Worse than yesterday with her first major hangover. Combat training would kill her. Kili, Ori, and Bifur stood on the other side.

“We’re going hunting." Said Kili. “Grab your daggers and we can make you a slingshot if you want."

Llorabell stared at Kili before turning to Ori for an explanation. “We need more meat or else we’ll be eating all our stores for traveling." Explained the scribe.

“Alright, give me a minute." Said Llorabell before closing the door in the dwarves faces.

She quickly dressed and secured her weapons but the little hobbit happily left behind her boots. They were uncomfortable things to wear at the best of times. In short bursts they weren’t too terrible but they now stank and having her feet so restricted for such long periods of time was frustrating. She’d put them on for combat training later but hunting should not necessitate boots.

She received three odd stares once she left her room. Ori asked after it became clear to them she was ready. “Mister Bilbo don’t you need your boots? We’ll be wandering the gardens and such."

“Oh no I’ll be fine." Llorabell said happily flexing her toes. Looking up found three blushing dwarves. “Is something the matter?”

“But It-s..Its not proper!”  Cried out Ori, his eyes were large as he stared at her toes.

“What?”

Kili blurted out as he tried not to stare at her toes. “You only walk ‘round barefoot with family Mister Bilbo!” Bifur and Ori nodded in agreement.

“Oh." Said Llorabell in amused surprise. It sounded so very odd covering your feet unless your only with family. She looked back down at her feet sadly flexing her toes. She would probably have to wear boots around then.

“Stop doing that!” Demanded Kili.

Llorabell looked back up to find Kili bright red, Ori covering his eyes and Bifur having turned himself around all together. “I’m sorry but what did I do?”

Kili stared helplessly at her for a moment before  he leaned forward and whispered out, “You’re bashkhâl anjnjaj... a-a.. there is no proper translation but you're an absolute tease!”

The hobbit quickly curled her toes up to cover most of them with the long pants she wore. She tried to think of something to say but could only open and close her mouth a couple times. Finally she got control of herself and tried to explain, “I-I... We hobbits don’t usually wear boots at all!”

Ori squeaked loudly.

“Not like that. Our feet are made of sturdier stuff. We don’t wear boots because they’re uncomfortable and-and I only have them because my great uncle insisted. I didn’t even own boots before Gandalf showed up!” Said Llorabell as she continued to hide her feet to the best of her ability. “Only Stoors wear boots or at least they were the only ones back in the day. No one really wears boots now. I had no idea. I mean..." The hobbit stopped her ramblings and took a deep breath. After a moment of staring at the red faced dwarfs she spoke again. “I’ll go put my boots on. One moment."

When she returned the three had calmed themselves and Ori was writing quickly in his book. Bifur gave an approving noise and nodded before heading out towards the gardens. Kili flashed a relieved grin and a mutter of thanks before following. Ori glanced at her and, turning pink, rushed off after the other dwarves. The hobbit lass sighed as she trailed after them. She was sure the rest of the company was going to learn about this and she would never live it down.

The four of them trumped through the gorgeous gardens of Rivendell as the predawn light streamed through the trees. Kili and Bifur would kneel every few minutes, starring carefully at the ground. After twenty minutes of listening to the quiet mutterings of the two dwarves, one in common and the other in khuzdul, Llorabell turned to Ori and asked with some trepidation, “Are we hunting elves?”

Her question startled a laugh from the quiet scribe. “No, no we’re hunting squirrels. It’s the only thing we’ll find around here." Ori grinned at her, “Though if you spy a bird with some meat on it, take it down."

Llorabell wrinkled her nose at the dwarf. “Squirrels?”

Kili looked up at her questioningly, “Don’t like squirrel meat Master Boggins?”

“Prefer hares at least." said Llorabell helplessly before muttering, “Knowing our luck the squirrels are all elf pets."

All the dwarves chuckled at her and Bifur said something in khuzdul. Kili nodded, “It would serve them right." Agreed the younger dwarf. Llorabell sighed at their antics but quietly followed them on the hunt saying nothing as Bifur picked flowers as they went. That night they had squirrel stew after the vegetable filled elvish dinner.

The days slowly slide by with Llorabell learning how to fight, studiously ignoring the vulgar behavior of her companions (which became easier once she witnessed the same behavior directed at others in the company), avoiding a ever grumpy Thorin, hunting squirrels with Kili and wandering through the library with Ori.

Finally the night came where Gandalf again dragged Llorabell to the map reading meeting. Thorin flashed her a glare and Gandalf an annoyed look but said nothing. Balin clapped Llorabell’s shoulder before following Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin through the halls to a cliff side with a large crystal pedestal.

There Lord Elrond took the map from Thorin and laid it across the crystal surface. They stood in silence for ten minutes watching the clouds covering the moon slowly drift past before finally the moon’s light reached the crystal pedestal. The crystal seemed to pull the light into it and enhance it.

Llorabell step up to the pedestal and rose to her tip toes to read the map. Moon runes glowed across it. They were beautiful, mysterious things. Llorabell looked up at Lord Elrond, “What do they say?”

The elf lord looked down at her with his stern demeanor before answering, “five feet high the door and three may walk abreast." Elrond slid his fingers carefully over the map before reading more, “stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

Balin and Thorin spoke in rapid, excited Khuzdul, forgetting their audience with the revelation that proved that there was a chance to reach Smaug. Their quest was not totally a fools hope. It even seemed that Mahal was guiding them since they had somehow reached Elrond in the correct year and time to have the map properly read.

Elrond spoke up, a deep frown directed at the two dwarves. “So that is your plan?”

“What of it?” Snarled Thorin.

“Some would say it foolish." Said Elrond. Thorin and Balin responded by taking up their map and stomping away. Elrond frowned after them. “Your plans are foolish Mithrandir." Elrond turned fully towards the Istar. “To push a desperate people on a fools errand simply because you fear the wrath of a sleeping dragon is beyond you, I would have thought."

Llorabell glanced between the two figures. Gandalf spoke up after a moment, “Desperation is the heart of some of the greatest achievements of any people. I may not be able to defeat a dragon but they have a chance and you know of the duty charged to me. This must be done. I fear-”

“It is not me you must explain yourself to, my friend." Elrond wave to the doorway and led Gandalf off. “Let us speak with all."

Llorabell Baggins stared at the one doorway and had the distinct impression that she had been forgotten. Nori found her on the way back to her room.

“Been looking all over for ya." The red head dragged her off towards the kitchens. swung over one shoulder were multiple empty bags. “We’ll be heading out soon as we get back with the food. Gandalf’s warned us to be out of here by morning."

Llorabell spoke up in understanding, the earlier conversation fresh on her mind, “He fears they’ll stop us."

“Aye."

They reached the kitchens and soon were kneeling in front of one of many locked cellars. Nori pulled out picklocks and took the moment to show her the basics. The two worked in companionable silence as they went through the first three cellars, grabbing what would last the long journey.

It was once they reached one of the furthest back and last cellar that the hobbit lass finally gave breath to a question she had wanted to know since learning Nori’s trade. “Why did you become a thief? Being a locksmith but becoming a thief seems-”

“Wrong?” Nori paused in his lock picking and slowly traced the lock. Llorabell watch the growing frown peaking out from his beard. Before she could retract her question the dwarf answered, “The Locksmith guild in Ered Luin hasn’t got many masters. They didn’t appreciate us coming into their territory. So they kept us fully out." Nori looked at Llorabell. “We’re not allowed to offer or even practice our trade within Ered Luin."

“That’s terrible." Breathed Llorabell.

Nori shrugged, “Aye, well it was their decision to make. Because of it, I grew up with no true way to practice my trade. I became a master through thieving. I broke the locks, stole the goods, and fixed the locks so they appeared new.” Nori looked away from her, “I’m not the only one in Erebor’s locksmith guild that had to go that route. All we lads did it. Any of us still living are as good as proper masters."

Nori went back to picking the lock as Llorabell mulled over his answer. “So does that mean you don’t really hold the title of master?”

“It took quite a few years to collect all the material I needed but I took all the tests for Erebor’s guild a few years ago. Did them all at once. Foolish really with the laws against practicing but I wanted to be proper for once. You know, have something legal that Dori..." Nori fell silent, not finishing his thoughts. Llorabell didn’t prob. She had seen the complex relationship between the two brothers. Dori seemed set to see only the worse in his brother. Nori had always gave the impression that he didn’t care when he clearly did.

The lock clicked open and all thoughts of the conversation was pushed to the back of their minds as the door swung open revealing drying meats. The two shared a look before Nori gave a pointed grin, “Knew the tree-shaggers were holding out on us."

“Everyone will be excited for more meat." Muttered Llorabell.

**  
Hours later, as the sun rose past the mountains and tree tops, the company of Thorin Oakenshield vanished into the Misty Mountains.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Dwarves apparently have a toe fetish. bashkhâl anjnjaj = tormenter-toes.
> 
> This chapter was focused on giving more depth to the dwarves and I was successful with some of them more than others. The dwarves didn't bluntly apologize to Llorabell but I don't see them doing that unless its something huge like in the movie with Thorin and Bilbo type huge. They show they're apology by getting her more involved in the company. 
> 
> Bofur is a terrible drunk. I found a number of really vulgar poems I thought about having him recite but decided against it in the end (partly because I don't remember what rating I gave this story).
> 
> Llorabell is being accepted more by them all because she has and is proving that she's not a burden. Thorin is still really distant along with a few others like Balin and Oin. I figured the older and more in-charge dwarves will take longer to accept her.
> 
> Also my head cannon has most dwarves bisexual since there is so few females. They still don't realize she's a she.
> 
> Kimiko_Tsuki made this lovely fanart of Llorabell: http://tsuki-no-shi.deviantart.com/art/Llorabell-367694346
> 
> And last, squirrels are obviously elf pets.
> 
> Galurim = Chakram
> 
> edited: 6/20/14


	4. Over and Under the Misty Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Drug use and vague indication of sexual intimacy.

Chapter Four: Over and Under the Misty Mountains

 

Llorabell wished they still had the ponies. Her legs were killing her. Muscles she hadn’t known about till recently were aching. The sun beat on their backs as they walked higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun. The near continuous uphill travel would be the death of her. Many things would be the death of her.

 

Her clothes were getting loose. Her appearance was losing the respectable Baggins stature. She would be thought poor if anyone back home saw her now. Poor and odd with the long pants and boots, her undnum hidden from plain sight.

 

Traveling up mountains gave Llorabell a new found respect for dwarven endurance. It was said they were made from stone and earth, and like the stone they would endure hundreds of years of continuous abuse. It made her feel inadequate. She was just some small little hobbit trying to stand tall besides mountains.

 

Thorin’s continuous barbs about moving faster and needing to keep up was almost perfectly in time with any hopeful thought that she might be able to endure right besides them. The would-be-king’s impatience was dragging Llorabell from any of her thoughts of comradeship. It didn't help that the night slowly grew quieter, the world faded from it’s joyful songs of plant life as less grew the higher they went, and cold meals came more often.

 

Soon all she would hear from the world was the near silent rumblings of the earth, though being surrounded by so much made it sound like a distant waterfall. It was almost like winter had come early. Bad things happened in winter.

 

Balin quietly and kindly explained to the haggard hobbit why the joyful company was becoming strained one evening after another cold meal. "It'll get better laddie. These mountains have been home to thieves and goblin clans for an age. We have to be cautious traveling through them. The smallest change may be noted and we count only fourteen and not fourteen of the best."

 

After that explanation Llorabell worked to keep her grumblings down, not that she ever dared voice them in the first place. Apparently just looking at her told everyone how miserable she was and there wasn’t much she could do about that. Everyone had good reason to be acting the way they were. It didn’t make it any less depressing but it did make it understandable.

 

The dwarves did continue to open up to her, though. While even Bofur’s jolly nature dimed with caution, there was still conversation, even jokes and quiet laughter. Llorabell learned more and more about these determined dwarves. The more she learned, the more she was determined to help them. They had endure so much for so long. Regaining a home was overdue.

 

One the strangest and amusing conversations occurred about halfway through the mountain pass. It was as they walked across the rocky, barren and snow ridden top of a lower mountain that Kili bounded to her side one day and asked quite bluntly, “Do any hobbits have beards?”

 

“Wha-” Llorabell stared over at Kili oddly, “What?” The question brought up images of her cousins and neighbors with beards. It was a strange thought.

 

“You look so soft and, well, weak. I mean, you can clearly handle yourself, Mister Boggins. You’re not helpless or anything but all the hobbits we saw don’t look like they should be able to handle battle." Kili waved his hands around as he tried to explain.

 

Fili butted in with a warm laugh, “What Kili means is that we heard that hobbits are little men that are better are farming and caring for land and such. The important part though, is that men have beards. Are hobbits like men in that regard? Do you..." Fili paused for a moment and looked mildly pained.

 

Kili leaned forward and whispered loudly out to Llorabell, “Shave?”

 

Fili made a slight pained noise even as Gloin smacked Kili’s head and interrupted loudly, “Course hobbits don’t shave! They’d won’t do anything so horrid like that."

 

“Well how’d you explain Mister Bilbo’s lack of a beard then!?!” Cried out Fili.

 

Dori was suddenly standing at Llorabell’s side, “He can’t be underaged. Gandalf wouldn’t trick us in letting a child go with us!”

 

“Um." Llorabell tried to interrupt but none of the dwarves were listening as they proceeded to exclaim over their thoughts on the matter.

 

“Maybe hobbits simply take longer to grow a beard? Ya know, like our dams." Said Bombur.

 

“Your ladies have beards?” Llorabell gasped, eyes growing wide at the thought of having so much hair. Of course it is this exclamation that caught the dwarrows attention.

 

“Of course” Shouted out Kili. Dwalin helpfully cuffed the young dwarf with a reminder to not shout. Gloin began babbling on about his lovely wife and her magnificent beard and how it would be a sin upon Mahal if she didn’t have it.

 

Balin spoke up above all the racket, “So your females are similar to men’s with not growing beards?” Llorabell could hear a touch of regret in his voice.

 

“None of us grow beards." Llorabell explained. “I mean, some very old hobbitmen may begin to grow a beard but they are in their hundredth year by then!”

 

The entire company stilled and stared over at her in shock. “Hundredth." breathed Gloin.

 

Dori placed a hand on Llorabell’s shoulder, leaned down slightly to get a good look at her. “Mister Bilbo, how old are you?” Resigned horror was written across his face. “You have to be at least eighty, right?”

 

“Eighty?” Llorabell frowned up at Dori. “Hobbits don’t live much past their hundredth year. I’m just thirty-three myself."

 

The dwarrow stood staring at her in open horror. “Gandalf had us bring a babe with us." Choked out Dori.

 

“Babe?” cried Llorabell in protest.

 

“What was he thinkin’!” snarled Dwalin.

 

Thorin grimaced over at her, from the edge of the group. “We would not have taken you with us if we had known your age Mister Baggins."

 

“No wonder Mister Bilbo looks so soft." Muttered Gloin.

 

Oin was frowning over at her, the conversation having been loud enough for him to know what was going on till now. The deaf dwarf shouted, “What?” at Gloin.

 

“I said that this explains why our hobbit looks so soft and young!” Shouted Gloin.

 

“I’m of age for a hobbit. I’m not considered a child." Llorabell said. The dwarves ignored her as they slowly got back to hiking over the mountain top. The older dwarves were all grousing over having a child with them. Ori was writing fiercely in his journal. Kili was celebrating not being the “baby” of the company. Fili was looking mildly uncomfortable. Dori was actively keeping Nori from getting close to Llorabell while making sure Ori didn’t walk off the side of the mountain. Bifur and Dwalin had taken up grumbling about her age on either side of her. No one bothered listening as the hobbit of the group tried to get some level of control back.

 

Later that night Gloin took up guard over her and pulled out a set of small wood plates. He handed them over to Llorabell, revealing painted images on them. “This here is my sweet Brimli. No one has a finer beard."

 

Llorabell looked carefully at the painted woman. The painting depicted a dwarf of slighter figure, more similar in leanness to the younger dwarves of the company. She had an obvious bosom, though the clothing didn’t emphasize its presence as she was wearing what appeared to be a male’s tunic. Her strawberry blond hair was intricately braided while still flowing down her back. The beard was smaller and finer than Gloin’s but possessed similar beads and was braided back into her hair in multiple layered braids.

 

It was strange seeing a beard on a woman but somehow it worked. “She’s lovely Mister Gloin."

 

Gloin gave a silly, love stricken grin. “That she is, that she is." The red headed dwarf looked down at the paintings for a moment, his grin fading to a wistful expression before returning to a smile. “Now the next one is of me son, Gimli." Gloin said proudly. “He’s a fine lad, tried to join the quest but he’s not yet of age."

 

Llorabell quickly turned to the image of Gloin’s son, ignoring the frown he sent her at the reminder of ages. It wasn’t her fault hobbits didn’t live as long as dwarves. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder if hobbit could live as long as dwarves or even elves if they bonded to one. Old tales made claims that it was possible. Yet the tales had been changed over the years as they were retold again and again.

 

The painting of Gimli revealed a young dwarf closer in stature to Gloin and possessing equally red hair. He was similar to Kili with having little in the way of a beard. It was obvious which parent the boy took after. “He looks like a good boy."

 

Gloin beamed at her before going to Bombur for a bowl of stew they had dared cook tonight. A little more cheer filled the company at the warm food and soon the last grumblings of Llorabell’s age faded away.

 

Two weeks of traveling through the Misty Mountains and they were nearly on the other side. They had reached a part in the pass where they were walking along a thin cliff side. There were sections where one person could pass another but for the most part they had to walk one by one. The midday meal had to be passed down the line to everyone.

 

Sitting, curled up as far from the edge as possible Llorabell munch quietly on her bread. The view was fantastic but terrifying. In the distance a valley could just be seen. They were almost out of the mountains. She smiled over at Balin. “It looks like a good day."

 

Balin smiled warmly back, “Yes." The white haired dwarf looked up. “Though, it looks like rain."

 

“Aye." Laughed Bofur on the hobbit’s other side. “I’d say we’ll be stuck in it too." The hatted dwarf shook his head and pulled out his pipe. “It’ll be cold rain." Lighting his pipe and taking a smoke, Bofur sighed out in contentment. A familiar scent filtered over the area.

 

“Longbottom leaf." Breathed Llorabell.

 

Bofur grinned at her. “A mit sweet but it’s held up well. Reminds ya of home, I bet."

 

Llorabell smiled, her mind drifting over days spent in the Shire with her father smoking that same leaf. “Yes. I’m sure you have scents that remind you of home."

 

“Hmm wood shavings, burning coal, the sweet smell of melting copper." Bofur chuckled and offered her his pipe. “Aye. I think there’s a few."

 

The hobbit lass carefully took the pipe. She rarely smoked as it wasn’t considered a ladies past time but, taking a careful breath in, she knew enough to not embarrass herself. Blowing out the sweet smoke she handed the pipe back. “Thanks Master Bofur."

 

“Ya needn’t call me that. Bofur’s just fine."

 

“Then you need not do it either, Bofur." The hatted miner grinned at her. Balin gave a polite cough. Llorabell looked over at him for a second before blushing lightly. “You all are welcome to drop the formalities. I think we’re past that."

 

Balin smiled. “Indeed Bilbo, I believe we are. You are welcome to call me Balin."

 

The rest of the dwarves shouted out their say in the matter. Only Thorin stayed silent but then Llorabell still knew him least of all. She knew Bifur better than the dwarf king.

 

It was late afternoon when the rain came. The sky was dark and it seemed like the world was already encased in night. There was no place to huddle out the storm. The company traveled slowly over the pass and the world grew darker still as the sun began to set.

 

As thunder rang out and shook the mountain, Llorabell felt ready to collapse. They would have stopped for the night hours before but they had yet to find a place where they could safely rest. No one could hear each other. Llorabell struggled to see more than a few feet in front of her. Fili’s back was the only thing she could see properly.

 

An explicit, rumbling roar exploded outward. Llorabell was just able to understand the curse word over another thunderclap. The hobbit stumbled after Fili as she stared wildly around. That roar had been in the earth tongue. Another, more violent roar ripped through the air.

 

Balin shouted out so that the company could just hear him, “This isn’t a thunderstorm! It’s a thunder-battle!”

 

Llorabell stared up at the large stone figures that rose from the mountain. Their argument rang out over the mountaintop. The very stone was moving on its own. Rarely did plant and earth wish to move on their own in the Shire. They had long been dozing, only responding to requests that reached their hearing and that they desired to do. The stone and earth was more awake and lively here. The land of the Shire was young compared to the Misty Mountains and here few would be present for such a display.

 

“Bless me soul. The legends are true! Stone giants!” Shouted Bofur as he stepped towards the ledge for a better view. “Stone giants!”

 

The argument shifted as the two giants came to an agreement that another was at fault. Llorabell stumped back towards the wall as the earth around her began to wake. The giant boulder flying at them told her that the giant at fault was near their area. She could hear the giant awaken sharply when the stone slammed into the mountain besides his head.

 

The companies shouts were barely heard over the shouting match of stone and the thunderclaps of boulders thrown. The mountain shifted and Llorabell clung to both the wall and Bofur as they found themselves moving away from the mountain. They were on the giant’s leg!

 

There was no time to think. One moment the rain and air rushed over them as the giant moved. The next they knew they were headed back to the mountain side. There was nothing they could do but hope. Then the world exploded with the rumble and cracking sounds of stone slamming into stone. She lost her grip on the giant and Bofur.

 

She reached out to grab hold of something, anything. Her arms strand. It took a moment to orientate herself, all the while holding on for dear life. She was hanging over the side of the cliff.

 

The rumbling shouting match between stones and the crash of thrown boulders was all she could hear. Bofur and Ori was suddenly looking down at her, reaching out and shouting something she could not hear. Llorabell desperately scrambled her legs over the cliffside, trying to find purchase on the sleek stone. Rain poured down her face.

 

As her arms were about to give out she was tossed up into Bofur and Ori. Rolling off them, Llorabell watched as Thorin was pulled up by Dwalin. The dwarf king had saved her. The one dwarf that did not like her and still stubbornly saw her as an added burden on a journey so important for his people’s survival had risked his own life to save hers.

 

“I thought we’d lost our burglar!” Shouted Dwalin, clearly relieved.

 

“He’s been lost from the start!” Thorin shouted back. Llorabell flinched at the biting comment. There was no time for argument or discussion. They needed to get out of the storm and battle. Dwalin pulled her to his side for a moment before taking lead and the company continued down the path.

 

Some twenty, thirty minutes later, the burly dwarf found a cave. There the company collapsed, using their bags as pillows. Bofur was given first watch and the rest was soon snoring away.

 

Llorabell couldn’t sleep. Thorin’s words echoed in her mind. She didn’t understand why Gandalf dragged her on this quest. She had simply been extra luggage. The only time she had been of aid was with the trolls and that had been pure luck.

 

She clenched her jaw. This was not the best time to question herself. She would do what she could to help the dwarves of Erebor. After everything Llorabell had learned about them, she knew one simple fact. These dwarves deserved a home. Even that-that bigoted, Hvakit of a king deserved one.

 

The hobbit calmed her thoughts. Thorin was stressed. He was taking it out on her. The dwarf wasn’t really an Hvakit. She just needed to prove her worth to him.

 

With those thoughts, the little hobbit lass slowly fell towards sleep. Then she was falling for real. The cave floor had collapsed on them. As they fell, strategically placed ramps and sloped stone slowed their fall until they landed in a basket like device.

 

The company staggered up and grabbed their weapons as goblins charged them. The goblin’s surrounded them all and hassled them down the way the creatures had come. Some of the goblins were able to grab the companies bags while others crowded the dwarves too close together to allow proper combat.

 

Llorabell was dragged alongside Nori and Fili, not so much because the goblins noticed her but because there was no space for her to maneuver out of the way. Dwalin finally got enough room to slam his hammer into some of the goblins, freeing up space for Thorin to pull his blade free.

 

The close quarters kept the rest of the dwarves and goblins from drawing their own blades but it was not close enough to keep Llorabell from pulling one of her daggers. She made enough room for Nori to pull twin long knives from his boots.

 

Dori was able to find space to slam his fist into one of the larger goblins. It slammed back into the smaller ones, forcing Ori into Dwalin’s way. Dwalin was then forced to change his attack to a glancing blow against one of the walkway’s stabilizing beams. The entire walkway shook and the group on it stumbled. Goblins stumbled into blades; dwarves lost the space they had gained. Many of the companies packs and things fell into the depths below.

 

Bombur fell back into a goblin that slammed into Fili. Fili grabbed Llorabell as he started to fall off the walkway. Llorabell reached out to grab something but a tiny, rather strange goblin fell into her.

 

Kili’s shout of “Fili! Bilbo!” was the only announcement to the others, it was too late. Nori’s fingers brushed against Llorabell’s for a second. Then Llorabell and Fili fell into the depths with a strange little goblin along for the ride. As they fell Fili got a hold of her and pulled her to him. He couldn’t get her too close both because of the blade still in her hand and because of the force of the air around them.

 

Their eyes met. The fear was matched. They were going to die. Llorabell was facing the ground. There was no strategic ramps or stone slopes to slow their descent. They would free fall until they hit the ground.

 

Llorabell clenched her eyes shut and shouted out desperately in the earth’s tongue. “HELP! Mîrd! Mîrd!” She could only hope nature would save them. Llorabell gasped as she crashed into Fili. A pained choke escaped Fili even as his arms wrapped securely around her.  Her eyes flew open as they slide downwards. They were on a slope of stone that had not been there a moment before.

 

As they slid off the slope and began free falling again, they slowly turned in the air. Llorabell found herself staring into the sky. Fili gave a choked curse and tried to twisted around. He couldn’t make it all the way around before they slammed into another slope. Most of Fili’s weight came down onto Llorabell.

 

The world exploded around her. Then there was nothing.

 

Llorabell woke to the sounds of a struggle. Her head throbbed violently. She could just make out things in the dark because of a faint blue glow coming from what looked like giant mushrooms. A strange, shadow covered creature was assaulting the goblin that had fallen with them. The goblin crumbled when a rock was slammed into its head. The creature dragged the stunned goblin away.

 

After a few minutes to make sure the creature didn’t return, the curly blond hobbit pushed herself up with a groan. An answering groan escaped the ground she was laying across. Llorabell quickly slide of an unconscious Fili.

 

She gasped as the world spinned. She had moved too fast. Closing her eyes, Llorabell took deep breaths as the dizziness slowly faded, though a low rumbling roar in the back of her head stayed. Once the dizziness was gone, she hesitantly looked up.

 

She couldn’t see anything. How far had they fallen?

 

She looked back down at Fili. If he didn’t wake up soon she would try waking him but with the type of fall they had she didn’t want to move him. Who knew what damage the fall had made.

 

Llorabell shifted around, unsure on what to do. There was the strange creature out there and Fili was defenseless right now. The blue light caught on something shiny on Fili’s side. She felt around the item and sucked in her breath. Her hand came back gleaming with blood.

 

She quickly rushed over to the light, finding her letter-opener glowing amongst the mushrooms.  Bringing the only light she had back to Fili revealed one of her throwing dagger sticking out of his side. It was the blade she had pulled out up on the walkway.

 

The blade needed to be pulled out and the wound disinfected. Llorabell rose and looked around. Her pack or Oin’s pack had to be around somewhere. She needed the disinfecting cream or ointment and bandages. They needed a small fire and something to boil water for cleansing the bandages. They needed something to hold the water.

 

A loud echo of stone against something else came from the direction of the strange creature. She looked over that way as another echo vibrated over to them. Her elvish blade’s light flickered. Something glittered on the cave floor.

 

Glancing over at Fili and then toward the echo’s origins, Llorabell slowly walked over to investigate. It was a simple gold ring that looked like a large, big folk’s ring until she picked it up.

 

The roaring in the back of her mind exploded out and for a moment she could have sworn that something had been shouting at her “Don’t!”. Then the roar faded back and she could focus on her treasure (as she had found it and it was her’s. Her treasure. Her precious.) In her palm the ring was clearly smaller. It was surprising she even noticed it with how small it actually was. The gold band was lovely, simple and it looked to be her size. What odd luck!

 

The glow of her blade vanished. Llorabell flinched at the sudden crunching sound that echoed out a second after. The little hobbit slide the ring into one of her trouser pockets. She grasped the handle of her blade with both hands and slowly headed toward the sound. The creature had killed a goblin. It couldn’t be all that bad, could it?

 

She soon reached an underwater lake. It was similar yet so different from her hidden lake back home. The place was so quiet, so dull. It was so still. She struggled to looked out across the lake with only the faintest hint of light present.

 

Something was out there. The faintest sound was her only warning before the creature lunged at her from above. She staggered back and swung her blade in front of her. The pale creature paused with a grin. “Blesses and Splashes, precious. That’s a meaty mouthful!”

 

The creature hopped toward Llorabell but stopped when the hobbit lifted her short sword and pointed at it. It backed up as it hacked, “G-Gollum! G-Gollum!”

 

Llorabell spoke firmer than she felt, “Stay back." She swung her blade at the creature, “I’m warning you, stay back!”

 

The creature scrambled on all fours away from her before squatting up. Its’ head, with strange, luminescent eyes, tilted as it took her in. “What is it, precious?!” The creature tilted its’ head the other way, “What is it!?!”

 

The creature almost hummed with interest as it continued to discuss with itself, “It’s not a goblinses. It not smellses bad enough. It’s not a dwarfses as it has no beard." The creature moved a little to the left and tilted its’ head the other way. “It’s not an elfses though its got an elvish blade. What is it?””

 

Llorabell gulped as she held her blade steady. “I’m a hobbit."

 

“A hobbitses?” The creature leaned in. “What’s a hobbitses? Do hobbitses taste good, my precious? Are they tough like dwafses? Stringy like goblinses? Or are they soft? Are they juicy?”

 

“Hobbits aren’t good for eating." Cried Llorabell as she took a step back. Water splashed as her heels hit the lake edge. “We’re small folk of the Shire and I’d like to get back there in one piece thank you very much."

 

The creature turned sly and sat up away from her. It’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as it spoke, “The hobbitses is lost, is it, Precious?”

 

Llorabell responded quickly, “Yes and I’d like to get unlost as quickly as possible. So if you could show me the way out, I would most appreciate it." There was something very nasty about this creature. It was between her and Fili too. It was best it didn’t know about the unconscious dwarf.

 

“Oh we’ses knowses! We knowses safe passage for hobbitses!” The creature beamed at Llorabell as it point off into the dark, “Safe pathses in the dark!” It’s face twisted with annoyed hate, “Shut up!”

 

“I didn’t say anything." Llorabell said, taken aback by the changes in the creature.

 

“Wasn’t talking to you!” snarled the strange thing. It then leaned behind one of the rocks jutting out of the floor, “but yes we was precious. We was."

 

“Look I don’t know what your game is but I-”

 

“Game!” Shouted the creature, its voice now filled with excited innocences, “Oh we love games, don’t we precious!” It jumped up onto the rock and started to bounce around in excitement, acting like a demented and strange looking child, “Does it like games? Does it precious? Does it like games? Does it like to play?”

 

Llorabell stared at the creature confused at what was going on, “Maybe."

 

It excitedly waved it’s hands about, smacked its lips, and spoke."What has roots as nobody sees, Is taller than trees, Up, up it goes, And yet never grows?”

 

“The mountains." Answered Llorabell amused and a little surprised by the creature’s intelligence. Intelligent things were dangerous things.

 

It laughed happily, “Yes, yes! Lets have another one now?” It waved invitingly over to Llorabell, “Do it again. Ask us!” Before Llorabell could respond its face twist back to a grimace and a snarl escaped, “No! No more riddles!” It scrambled away, speaking all the while to itself, “Let us finish itses off now! G-Gollum! G-Gollum!”

 

Llorabell stumbled back as the creature charged her. She shouted out, “Wait!” Even as the world spun from her sudden movements. The creature ignored her cry as she was clearly struggling to stay standing. The feeling of the world spinning around her faded quickly but not quickly enough. The creature’s hands wrapped around her neck.

 

She tried to swing her blade up at it but the creature dexterously used its feet to hold her arm down. All she could do is claw its hands and face with her other hand. The world blurred. She pushed up with her legs, trying to dislodge the creature. It was stronger than her though and forced her back onto the ground, slamming her head down for good measure. The world spun even as the edges grew dark.

 

The creature made a gurgling sound. It’s hands became loose. Then it was gone. She could breath again. Llorabell gasped for air as she slowly sat up. The creature lay a few feet away clearly dead.

 

“Bilbo!” The hobbit jerked her head towards the voice. The world spun for a moment and she groaned. “Bilbo are you alright? Can you understand me?”

 

The world recentered itself as she realized it was Fili speaking. “Fili, you’re awake?’” She blinked up at the pale dwarf. “Stupid question, of course you are." She frowned down to his side where her dagger still rested. “You should sit down. I’ll go look for my pack and a thing for water and -”

 

Fili sank to his knees in front of her, “You’re not moving!”

 

“You’re worse off than me! You have a blade in your side!” Countered Llorabell, her voice raspy.

 

“You were strangled and have hit your head multiple times!” Said Fili back, a scowl growing across his face.

 

“You could bleed to death. I just can’t sleep for a while." Said Llorabell her voice cracking, “I-If I move slowly I’ll be fine. You stay here, I’ll go looking for our packs. I have some healing cream and there might be Oin’s pack somewhere. Balin, Dwalin or Dori’s pack must have medical supplies too. Maybe some of the others. Bombur has all the pots." She stood up and swayed slightly. Fili pulled himself up after her. “Sit!”

 

The dwarf shook his head, “If we work together it will be faster." He grimaced, “We both need medical supplies and rest."

 

Llorabell sighed in defeat. “Fine." The two slowly headed back to the mushrooms they had fallen into. She looked around and asked, “Do you recognize these mushrooms? Think we can eat them or use them as firewood?” Fili walked away from the mushrooms and quickly faded from her sight as she spoke. “Fili?”

 

The dwarf’s voice came from the dark, “I don’t know them but we should be able to burn them." Fili hmmed and reappeared. “Hold onto this for Bofur." Llorabell started in surprise at the hat in Fili’s hand.

 

The dwarf set it onto her head as she asked, “How’d you find that? It’s so dark in here I wasn’t expecting us to find anything small." Bofur’s hat slid down to cover her eyebrows but stopped before covering her eyes.

 

Fili gave a warm grin at the sight before frowning, “It’s was just laying over there. I noticed it earlier but I heard you shout out so I didn’t grab it."

 

“You could see it." Breathed Llorabell.

 

“And you couldn’t." Agreed Fili. He smiled ruefully at her. “Hobbits can’t see well at night, can they?”

 

Llorabell sighed, “No."

 

“Take mushrooms back by the lake. I’ll look around for the packs and we’ll go from there."

 

“Back to that thing?”

 

Fili made a face before explaining, “Water can be heavy."

 

“Right." Muttered Llorabell. She carefully knelt by the mushrooms and began cutting them with her short blade.

 

“Be careful, keep that blade handy and your ears open." Muttered Fili before he vanished into the dark.

 

Llorabell made three trips to carry a sufficient amount of giant mushrooms to the lake. She set up camp as far away from the corpse and one entrance as possible. The little hobbit made a small mushroom pile, stacked vaguely in a teepee like fashion for the fire. Then she pressed her back down against a rock wall and faced the one entrance with her blade resting at her side.

 

Fili slowly walked out of the dark some time later. Two packs rested on his back and he carried one of the smaller pots of Bumbur’s. Fili dropped the packs down and handed the pot to Llorabell before sinking to the floor. His side was stained dark. He flashed a grimacing smile at her, “We need to get this out of me."

 

“Yes of course." She scrambled over to one of the packs she recognized as hers but paused for a moment as she was swept with light headedness. At least the world hadn’t spune this time. “You found mine and who’s?” She rasped out.

 

Her pack was torn open. Many of her things were gone. She quickly dug into her pack for any of her medical supplies. She found a ruined pack of her errose tea (it was soaked through from a ruptured water skin), pulled out the bevorin and her fishing rod for any fish they might find in the lake, and finally she found her mint green cream Lalia explained all those months ago. The only other salvageable item was her embroidery kit and maybe one shirt once dried.

 

“It’s Gloin’s pack." Fili pulled the other pack over and dug through it, “Aha!” He pulled out Gloin’s firestarter. “Can you get water while I get the fire going?”

 

Llorabell nodded and handed over the paste, “This will help keep your wound from getting infected." before taking the pot. It took only a few minutes for Fili to get the fire started and the water heating. Then they both sat silently, exhaustion finally hitting them. Smoke rose from the burning mushrooms. It swirled lazily around the camp since there was no wind to move it away. Fili and Llorabell slowly grew hazy but strangely awake.

 

“Do we have any food?” Asked Llorabell, suddenly ravenous.

 

Fili asked back, “Do we have any bandages? Gloin’s pack is soaked. Waterskin burst I think."

 

“Mine bursted too." Llorabell suddenly sat up. “Wait!” The hobbit pulled her cape, outer tunic and leather armor off. “My bindings are basically bandages."

 

“Your bindings?” Asked Fili.

 

“For my chest and curves." Explained Llorabell as she turned away from Fili, “Don’t watch!” Then she pulled her inner tunic off. She quickly loosened the bindings and slowly freed it from her body. “They’ll just need a soak in boiling water."

 

“Y-You’re a woman." Squeaked Fili.

 

Llorabell look back at the dwarf. “I said don’t look!” She turned bright red at the sight of the dwarf sitting staring at her nearly bare back. The hazy feeling vanished. She had stripped in front of him without a second thought! “Fili!” She grabbed her tunic and threw it at the dwarf. “Turn around!”

 

Fili yelped at the tunic slapping into his face. He turned around and repeated, his own cheeks pinked. “You’re a woman."

 

The hobbit carefully unwound the bandages. “Of course I’m one. You know that."

 

“Obviously I didn’t." Grumbled the dwarf.

 

Llorabell finished pulling the bindings off and looked around for her tunic. “But Gandalf said he told you all who I was." Llorabell glanced back, breathing in more smoke from the mushrooms. “Did I... Did I throw my tunic at you?” She squeaked out as her blush grew darker.

 

Fili glanced down at what he had been fiddling with. “Y-yes." He coughed. “Here." The dwarf prince tossed it over to her and turned back around. A moment later he heard movement and something being dropped into the pot of water. “Gandalf only said he was getting us a burglar named Bilbo Baggins."

 

The two look over at each other for a few minutes as the water began to boil with some of the bandages in it. Llorabell looked down at the pot as she chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Finally she spoke up, “We should get my dagger out and it all cleaned up."

 

Fili groaned but slowly laid down. Llorabell cut a strip of the leather from her destroyed bag and gave it over for him to hold between his teeth. Then she straddled Fili in an attempt to keep the dwarf still, took hold of the handle and began to count, “One, Two -” She yanked the blade out. Fili muffled his roar of pain and grabbed onto her thighs even as Llorabell spoke, “Three."

 

The two blonds stared at each other for a moment. Llorabell was fairly certain she was seeing swirling colors in the glow reflected in the water around them. “You know, I don’t think it was a good idea to burn the mushrooms." They both stared at each other for a moment longer then started laughing for no reason.

 

“I need” Fili snorted with odd amusement, “to clean my” he choked back a laugh, “wound." He was gasping at the end from struggling with laughter.

 

Llorabell giggled helplessly and fell forward, catching herself with her hands on either side of the dwarf’s head. Their noses almost brushed as she remarked, “You need to let go of my legs first."

 

Fili hmmed softly, eyes heavily lidded as his hands started to slid up. The hobbit squeaked and smacked the dwarf. His glazed gaze sharpened and he flushed, quickly letting go of her legs. “Those mushrooms." He muttered as Llorabell got off him.

 

“Do we have any salt or alcohol?” Asked the burglar as she dug through Gloin’s pack.

 

“I could use a drink." Fili sat up to watch her. “Are you seeing swirling colors in the fire?”

 

Llorabell dropped Gloin’s things back into his bag. “Its for cleaning your wound, not drinking." She looked over at the fire and nodded. “yes." Llorabell turned away from the rainbows dancing in a halo around the fire. She opened the only intact water skin and took a sip. Coughing she gasped out, "I think this is alcohol!"

 

Fili took a swig and nodded in agreement before pulling off his leather armor and tunic. The two were bright red by the time his wounds was properly dressed. The smoke from the mushrooms began to take their full effect.

  
The two kept forgetting decency, their actions grew more intimate even as their speech slurred and they couldn't quite focus properly.  It didn't take long before one of them leaned over and kissed. Everything became a blur after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... this is where things start really changing. Thoughts anyone? I'm not absolutely sure where this will go. I know the end though. 
> 
> There will be more Hobbit culture but besides the giant fight/talk Fili and Llorabell will have to have at some point, and the "hey I'm a female" conversation and reactions from the other dwarves, there won't be much for a while. There will be more dwarf culture revealed too.
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> Hvakit = bastard  
> mîrd = help
> 
> edited: 6/20/14


	5. Into the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't remember if I warned you but this story is a mixture of book and movie.

Chapter Five: Into the Wild

 

Llorabell shivered as she felt a hand trace the curve of her bare hip. Embers, the last of the fire, smoldered around her bevorin. The remains of a surprisingly large fish still rested on it.

 

She shivered again, this time from the furnace pressed to her back moving away. Llorabell didn’t move to chase after it. The mushrooms effect’s had dulled enough for her to never want to move again.

 

She was naked. Fili was naked.

 

This was beyond improper. Tears welled up. Llorabell could feel a hint of histria bubbling inside. Only the remaining effect’s of the mushrooms kept it at bay.

 

She was bonded for eternity to some dwarf she had only known for a few months. Fili was a good dwarf. He was strong, proud, warm but he was a dwarf and she had only known him for a few months. She knew nothing about his life outside the quest and his relations to the other dwarves in the company.

 

He was all but a stranger.

 

She was supposed to find a good hobbit lad. A proper hobbit went through Galuind to learn about their potential bonded, to determine if he was the one to bond with. Fili and her hadn’t done any of it.

 

“Bilbo?” Llorabell didn’t respond to the hesitant call from Fili. She didn’t want to acknowledge him. To do so meant it had really happened. A few moments later she could hear shuffling as Fili slowly moved around the little camp.

 

She felt Fili kneel behind her not long after. Fingers slid carefully over her hip. “Here’s your clothes when you feel ready." He whispered. “I’ll go search for other packs. Your blades are just by your clothes back here. I’ll be in shouting distance."

 

Fili’s footsteps faded into the dark. Llorabell finally rose and shakingly pulled her clothing back on. Without her bindings her clothing curved around her natural form. She looked down at her reflection. At a glance it wasn’t so obvious that she was female but Llorabell still felt strangely exposed.

 

The hobbit turned from the lake and secured her weapons. A noise from the entrance had her twisting around and pulling her blade out. Fili carefully stepped into her view. He had purposely announced his presence for her. Llorabell lowered her blades and stared uncertainly at the dwarf.

 

He gave a hesitant smile, “You’re near blind as a bat in here." He remarked teasingly, testing the waters.

 

Llorabell quirked her lips, her mood too mixed to find any really humor. Instead she chose to change the topic. “Did you find anything?”

 

Fili nodded and walked a few steps over to Gloin’s half dried pack. Llorabell watched as he set another couple of packs and a pot down. “Found Nori’s and Dwalin’s packs, I think." He looked back up. “I’m going to keep looking around for a little while longer. The sun should be rising soon, then we’ll head out."

 

The dwarf prince near fled before Llorabell could respond. She took this time to get everything in one pile to go through and prepare herself for heading out. They needed to find the others, which Llorabell was fairly sure meant heading up into the bowels of the mountain.

 

Llorabell found and put on Bofur’s hat as she took one last turn around the makeshift camp. Fili announced his presences again a few minutes later. This time he came back empty handed.

 

The two stared down at the pile of bags and the various items. “We can’t take all this." Remarked Llorabell sadly. She didn’t want to leave their companion’s things here but they had little choice.

 

Fili nodded in agreement. “Lets go through them. Sort personal items, practical items and unnecessary ones I guess." He knelt down and pulled Gloin’s bag to his side. “They’ll have to understand and we don’t know when we’ll catch up to them."

 

Llorabell knelt across from him and pulled over Nori’s pack. The little hobbit lass set the pile of clothes to the side and pulled out a elegant, faintly familiar candelabra. She stared blankly at the item before looking up and meeting Fili’s eyes. The two couldn’t help but share a grin, the tension between the two faded away for the moment. Nori had apparently collected some souvenirs from Rivendell before they had left.

 

She set it aside and added the other elvish items by it. The next item sent a mix of emotions through her. It was an old, battered ring of picklocks. One of her prized silver spoons was hanging from it, its handle bent to wrap securely around the ring. Llorabell rubbed the flower inscribed in the bowl of the spoon as she thought of home once again.

 

How she wished she was back at Bag End, curled up in her armchair reading about adventures and far off places instead of living a real adventure. Real adventures were nothing like the stories. The picklocks were laid down besides the paintings of Gloin’s family.

 

The two quickly emptied the three packs. The four water skins, one still half filled with alcohol, were necessary. They also took all the medical supplies and some shirts that could either be ripped up for more bandages or replace their own clothing if needed. Two wet stones, the smaller pot, the bevorin, all the fishing gear that survived the fall, and a small pack of herbs were added to the pile. The paintings of Gloin’s family, Nori’s picklocks, Llorabell’s embroidery kit and all three dwarves’ pipes and leaf were also added. The one surviving bedroll and an extra cloak was the last items placed into the pile.

 

Everything else was left behind. The two split the items evenly between two of the three bags. Llorabell was given the smallest of the bags and Fili claimed most of the heavy items. The only items carefully split between the two were the water skins, fishing gear, and medical supplies in case they were somehow separated from each other.

 

They were finally ready to head out. Fili stared down at her for a moment before turning away, “Right, follow me. The suns rising now so all the goblins and what not should be heading back into the mountain."

 

“And that’s a good thing?” Asking Llorabell as she pulled onto her bag’s straps. It was built for a taller person and wasn’t exactly easy to adjust.

 

Fili glanced back at her, “Yes well, we need to get some answers and goblins are the only ones with those answers." He grimaced slightly before turning back to the dark path. “I’ll take care of it. You just stay out of sight."

 

Llorabell frowned. “You’re going to torture a goblin?”

 

“Is that really what you want to talk about?” His voice dropped, sounding defensively cold.

 

“Fili, earlie-”

 

“Don’t." He sighed. The Dwarf turned to face her. He looked down at her with mixed emotions. “Right now isn’t the time." He dropped his gaze from her figure. “What happened was neither our faults. Neither of us had any real control over what we were doing. I’m sorry. I realize that you were… I know you were a…” Fili shook his head and glanced back up at her. “Lets talk about this once we’re not in a goblin infested mountain."

 

Llorabell bit her lip and nodded, blushing slightly when Fili’s eyes were drawn to her lips for a second. Fili quickly turned back to the path. Neither said anything as the tension between the two had returned from earlier.

 

There were a few points where the path became almost too tight for them to get through. One point was so tight that they both had to push their packs through, pull off multiple layers of clothing and squeeze through. Fili almost didn’t make it. Llorabell almost lost the buttons on her cape before she took off a few layers.

 

Finally the cavern started to grow lighter. Llorabell paused as she heard something ahead. She tugged on Fili’s sleeve and, once she had his attention, tapped at her ear before pointing ahead. Fili nodded and flashed a few hand symbols Llorabell could only guess at. He made a slight face, realizing his mistake before carefully tugging Llorabell down with him into a crouch.

 

A few minutes down the path revealed an exit and a few goblins standing around it grumbling. Llorabell waited for Fili to do something since he couldn’t tell her his plan. Fili watched the goblins, fingering one of his many sheathed blades as he waited to see if the number of goblins varied any.

 

After a few minutes it didn’t look like anymore goblins were coming nor that the ones present were leaving. Fili grasped the handle and began to pull the blade free when a familiar howl filtered in from the cave entrance.

 

A few moments later a warg riding orc entered the cavern. The orc jumped off the warg and stamped his way to the goblins. The two hidden figures stiffened as the warg slowly wandered around the small cavern.

 

“Send word to Bolg, Durin dwarfscum travel east by eagle." snarled the orc.

 

One of the goblins sneered at the commanding newcomer. “We’ve sent word. The warg pack chased ‘em up trees. We saw ‘em cling up ‘ere like a bunch of wingless birdies!”

 

“Was a pretty sight watching ‘em as the pines burned." added another, grinning goblin.

 

A third began singing with laughter in its voice, “Thirteen birds in five fir-trees, their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze! But, funny little birds, they have no wings! O what shall we do with the funny little things? Roast ‘em alive, or stew them in a pot; fry them, boil them and eat them hot!” The disgusting creature folded over in cackling laughter.

 

The other goblins cheered and jeered with their own grins at the rendition. The orc snarled wordlessly at the lot and the first goblin’s grin faded as he added, “Looked forward ta dwarf meat but the damned eagles came and picked ‘em up. The grey warg and her pack gives chase as we speak."

 

The orc frowned at them, “And you already sent word?”

 

“Had ta, ‘em dwarves killed our king." Snapped the first goblin.

 

“The king’s dead?”

 

The goblin flashed an annoyed glare at the orc. “Are you deaf?” The orc snarled, reaching for his blade at the offense, but the goblin waved his arms about, “Blah, be off with you. Your message is already heading to Gundabad."

 

The orc snapped his blade back into its sheath and headed back out, the warg following him. The orc paused at the entrance,  “Prepare for orders from Bolg." He turned back at them. “He won’t take the King’s death by dwarves kindly." With that the orc and his warg were gone. The goblins grumbled amongst themselves and headed back into the mountain a few minutes later.

 

Fili and Llorabell took this chance to head out. Outside was hazy from smoke. The two stood just above the rolling, floating hazy from the fire spreading out below. The wind was pushing the smoke up towards the mountains to their right so they had only one direction they could go.

 

The two traveled in silted silence. Both had so many things to ask, to say but neither wanted to be the one that broached the topic. The knowledge that there was a warg pack out hunting their companions and that another pack with orcs was  around somewhere kept both from trying to talk about anything at all.

 

It was distant shouting that broke the strange silence surrounding them. The two looked at each other in question. Llorabell spoke, “Should we go look?” Fili grinned at her and clapped her back before trotting down towards the shouts.

 

Llorabell grumbled quietly to herself as she followed. As good as Fili was at being reassuring, he seemed content to go off without ever planning anything. It was rather frustrating.

 

A group of ash covered humans stood in a small clearing ahead of them. The men were arguing amongst themselves as women and children stood apart, working on some thin stew.

 

Fili stopped at the sight. Llorabell paused at his side. “Maybe we should continue the way we were heading." Whispered Fili.

 

Llorabell frowned at over at him, “We don’t know where we are. We have no clue what the the orcs meant about eagles taking everyone. We have no food."

 

Fili shook his head, “We’ll figure those all out."

 

She grabbed Fili’s arm as he turned back the way they had come, “What is it with you lot and asking for help? First the elves and now humans?”

 

Fili flashed a glare her way but couldn’t form a retort as the men finally noticed them.

 

“What are ya lot?”

 

Fili and Llorabell turned back towards the humans. The entire group were staring at them. Fili step forward, placing himself firmly between them and Llorabell. “Fili son of Vali of the Blue Mountains at your service." Fili gave a faint, stiff bow to compliment his greeting.

 

Llorabell worried silently over the wariness seeping into his greeting. When he had greeted her all those months ago, he had been full of exuberance and life. Llorabell wondered if the change was because there was no Kili to accompany his greeting or because Fili thought these men were a threat and she had not been.

 

Fili waved his hand back towards Llorabell. “And this is my companion Bilbo son of, uh-”

 

“Dwarves." Scowled one of the men. “What are dwarves from the west doing all the way out here?” Others grumbled in quiet agreement. A number of the men brandished axes.

 

Fili stiffened at the hostilities. Llorabell quickly took over the conversation, brushing past Fili with an open smile, “Being lost is what we’re doing all the way over here."

 

“Lost?”

 

“Oh yes, you see” Llorabell waved her arms out invitingly, “we are trying to get to the Iron Hills but took a wrong turn somewhere. We had gotten stuck up in the high pass during a Thunder Battle."

 

The hobbit took another step forward and flicked her hand to point back up at the mountain, “There were these great, stone giants having an argument. They were throwing rocks and cursing up a mighty storm the likes you’ve never seen. And when one decided to holler something truly foul at the other, one of the boulders they were tossing here and there came barreling out at us and we had to move or be squashed like little flies."

 

Llorabell slapped her hands together for emphasis. A number of the children and women jumped in fright, they were so engrossed in the tale, “So we ended up taking a wrong turn, tumbled down into a deep dark cavern. Only these strange glowing fungi gave light to the place. The strange light made it all very eerie and quiet. We were heading out to the surface when something lunged out at me and spoke with a horrid joy! ‘Blessses and splashes’ It said to me, ‘What a meaty mouthful!’ And lunged at me but while I was still quite rattled from falling down so far into a dark, dank cavern; Fili was able to defeat the creature. So we finally got out of the cavern."

 

She paused to take stalk of her audience. Every human was hang onto her words, though some of the men stood in the back with frowns. “We thought we had finally gotten back on track but next we knew there was a giant forest fire we had to flee from but the fire separated our companions from us. Last we saw of them, they were being picked up by eagles! We had no choice but to travel down this way and then we heard you all. And, well, we thought ‘My, these fine sturdy folk making a living out in the wild would be able to tell us where we are and where we should be heading and where we might find our companions taken by eagles’ and so here we are."

 

Llorabell paused, gave a charming smile before speaking up again. “I guess, since we are here now, we might ask you that. So, where might we be? Do you happen to know where we might find eagles and where should we be heading?”

 

One of the men stepped forward, lowering his axe as he came. “I know not what you can do about your friends. The giant eagles have always aided us when goblins and wargs attacked so there is a chance they simply took your friends to safety. As it stands, you’re a bit south of the old ford, Master Dwarf." He point out away from the mountain. “The old ford is that way, three or four days from here depending on how quickly you can travel. That would be the quickest, safest route over the great river." The woodsman turned back to them. “And if your companions are dropped off on this side of the river, they would be heading to the ford also. From there you’ll have to find your own way. I’d avoid traveling through Mirkwood. Heard tales of giant spiders living there."

 

Llorabell frowned. “Mirkwood would be the quickest route to the Iron Hills."

 

“Yes." The man agreed. “If you survive."

 

Fili and Llorabell shared a grim look. Thorin and company had planned to travel through those woods. The hobbit turned back to the humans. “Thank you for the directions and warning good sir. May I ask… We have lost our store of food. Do you have any you could spare?”

 

Fili finally joined the conversation. “We understand if you can’t. It looks like you may have lost your homes in the fire."

 

The man sighed and shook his head, “You’re correct Master Dwarf. We have none to spare."

 

“Thank you again." Llorabell said as they headed out, her gut churning at the knowledge that their travels had led to a group of people losing their homes to fire. Winter was coming and those people had no shelter and little food.

 

The fire spread far enough that Fili and Llorabell had to continue traveling more southwards than they should if they wanted to reach the ford. As the day grew long the two finally paused for the day. They found a place for camp and searched the surrounding for food, leaving a few minor traps around.

 

“With the fire, I doubt we’ll catch anything." Explained Fili as he stopped after setting up three traps. Llorabell collected some herbs and medical plants they ran across. They found no food.

 

They settled into their tiny camp and shared the last of the alcohol. The sky was dark and cloudy with smoke. No moon nor star was seen as night came. Neither looked at each other, lost in thought.

 

Fili took a large gulp of the burning liquid before breaking the silence, “You’re a woman."

 

“I would hope you knew that by now." muttered Llorabell.

 

Fili looked over at her, a lost expression written across his face. Finally the blond dwarf spoke again, “We wouldn’t have treated you the way we did if we had known."

 

“Fili." Llorabell grimaced, “You all being terribly rude to me wasn’t unexpected. I mean…” She floundered for a second. “That’s what everyone says about dwarves so while I didn’t believe the stories per say, I wasn’t surprised when they seemed to be true."

 

“That wasn’t what I was talking about." Fili looked split between being offended and flustered. “We have our reasons for being distant with strangers. We would have been less so if we had known, of course, but I was talking about our advances."

 

Llorabell stared blankly at Fili for a moment. Then it clicked. Her face flushed red. “You m-mean." She stuttered. “you all were flirting with me! I had thought it was just how you all are with each other."

 

“What?”

 

“Cultural differences!” Cried Llorabell. She took a breath. “I mean I thought it was just how dwarves are with people they trust. You all were doing it to each other, not just me."

 

Fili gave her a strange look. “We were not."

 

“Bofur and Nori."

 

“Well yes." Fili agreed. “They are like that."

 

“Dori and Balin."

 

Fili made a face.

 

“Dwalin and Ori."

 

“Yes, yes. Alright." Fili waved his hands. “That wasn’t everyone though. Those just enjoy each others company. It happens on quests and during wars and such. You find someone you’re comfortable with. Sometimes you stay together after everything is said and done with. Sometimes you don’t."

 

Llorabell looked weirdly at him, “But I thought you were flirting with me. Now your saying you just wanted companionship?”

 

Fili stared at her. “We were flirting with you."

 

“But you just said that the others were just looking for companionship." Llorabell said. “I don’t understand."

 

Fili puffed out some air, new understanding gleaming in his eyes. Fili spoke up as he used a stick to move a log in the fire. “Bilbo. They were flirting with each other. They wanted intimate companionship. You know…”

 

Llorabell stared blankly at Fili. Her nose wrinkled as she started to understand “But...But that’s not possible. It’s not right! How would you even do that?”

 

He frowned at her. “Not right? Why? Don’t you hobbits enjoy each others company?”

 

“No!” Llorabell paused. She fiddled with her cape as she explained, “We don’t do that type of thing with anyone and certainly not if we’re just lonely! It’s not done." She looked up at Fili. “It’s not the proper way of things. You find the person you want to have a family with and you do it with that person. To even think of bonding with another when you can’t have children..." Llorabell shook her head sharply, lost for words.

 

Fili stabbed the stick into the fire. “Not done." He gave Llorabell a flat look. “I realize you were a virgin and all but you know that sex is fun. What we did last night was good. If the mushrooms hadn’t made things a bit strange it would have been more than good. Sex is enjoyable and you should want to enjoy it with people you care about. So what if you can’t have sprogs with the other person?” Fili shook his head, “It’s sex. Children are important and all but that doesn’t mean you should spend the rest of your days without experiencing it with people you like. You hobbits are missing out."

 

“So you dwarrow just have sex with anyone when you feel like it!” She snapped. Her heart hammered as her mind ran a mile a minute. What had she done? Who had she bonded herself to? Llorabell shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about that. She didn’t want to think about being bonded to anyone.

 

The dwarf scowled at her, sharply reminding Llorabell of Thorin. “Of course not. You don’t do that with someone you don’t know and trust." Fili’s expression softened. “It is a bit different with our dwarrowdam."

 

Llorabell turned her head away, blinking back tears. It all sounded very barbaric, very wrong. She had grown up knowing she had to choose a lad that she could live with for the rest of her days. Llorabell had been taught that the most important thing was family. Each bond must be made after careful consideration of stability, family and future children in mind.

 

“I’m not explaining this proper." Fili said quietly. “Do you know we dwarrow have Ones?”

 

Llorabell looked back at Fili. He looked uncertainly at her. “Its said that Mahal crafted each dwarf from stone but when he created us he split the stone in half, crafting one dwarf from each half. The other half of the stone we are carved from is our One."

 

Llorabell felt worse as Fili explained. “Your One has to be another dwarf then?”

 

Fili shook his head. “No. Our Ones can be of other races, though it’s rare."

 

“How does having Ones explain having sex with anyone?”

 

Fili tossed a branch into the fire as he explained, frustration seeping into his voice again, “Not everyone knows their One on sight. Its said that you just realize it one day. Most of us never find our One and many of us that do end up loving someone that cannot see us. Many dwarrow are focused only on their craft. They cannot see their One standing at their side."

 

The dwarf looked over at Llorabell. “It is this reason that we don’t restrict ourselves to one person we may never find or see even if they are standing right by us all along. What if we chose to abstain from the simple pleasure of being with someone that understands us and the person we abstained from was our One but we never found out because we dared not involve ourselves with them?”

 

“Your One could be another male?” Asked Llorabell as she thought of the sad picture Fili painted. “Even though you would never be able to have children?”

 

“Maybe. The chance to father a child is rare and few dwarrow would decline such an offer. There are very few dwarrowdams, Bilbo. So why wait for something that might not happen? Why can’t we find love for loves sake? Why can’t we enjoy pleasure for that moment only? Not everything must center around children." The dwarf watched her thoughtfully, “There are whole laws and traditions we follow to make sure our women are cared for and have the greatest chance at finding their Ones. We do care about having children but there isn’t any way all us dwarves will be fathers." Fili bowed his head away from her, “What happened between us shouldn’t have occurred. None of us would have approached you at all, if we had known."

 

Llorabell pulled her legs up and rested her head on her knees. “Why? Because I could get pregnant?” She looked over at Fili when he didn’t responded. The dwarf was staring at her, his mouth agape. “Fili?”

 

“You can get-t pregnant." Choked out Fili. He raised his hands up to fend off any retort from Llorabell. “I know. You are a woman." Fili rubbed his brow in a nervous swipe. “I’ve spent the last few months thinking you were male. The thought that we treated a woman so terribly is a bit much to take in. And-d we had sex and you could be pregnant and I screwed up so badly! I shouldn’t have been so forward with you. I-I… Mahal Amad is going to kill me!”

 

Llorabell stared wide eyed. Her honey orbs large as Fili started babbling in khuzdul to himself. “Fili it’s going to be alright. I might not be pregnant. I’ve been taking tea that helps ward off my bleedings and it is believed to help ward off pregnancy too."

 

Fili just groaned softly at her and shook his head. “You don’t understand. We male dwarrow might be intimate with each other without much preamble but its different with our dwarrowdam. Its improper to send advances towards a lady. You indicate that you’re interested and willing. Then you wait for the lady to come to you if she wants anything." Fili shook his head again. “We didn’t do that. When you didn’t give any indication that you were interested we should have stopped.

Yet we all kept sending advances at you because you blushed so innocently. It was ridiculous."

 

“Ridiculous!”

 

The dwarf looked up at her with a blush. “Sorry, sorry. I mean it was ridiculous how enjoyable it was seeing you blush. You’re small, fragile, near hairless and lack any real muscle." Llorabell flushed in embarrassment as Fili explained why she wasn’t attractive by dwarven standards. “You seem so weak and yet there’s something marvelous about it all. And on top of that, you proved time and time again how strong and skilled you really are. You are a contradiction."

 

The hobbit felt her mortification twist with Fili’s words. She wasn’t sure how she felt now. Her bonded explained clearly why she wasn’t a standard of beauty for dwarves and then twisted it to something that sounded almost like he did find her attractive.

 

Fili gave a soft smile. His eyes gleamed as he glanced over her for a moment. Llorabell blushed deeper at his scrutiny. Then he finished his explanation with one terribly embarrassing statement. “You’re exotic."

 

Llorabell made a slight noise at the words filled with such clear interest and quickly turned away from the dwarf. She curled up as if to go to sleep and Fili laughed warmly at her actions. The two didn’t bother with more conversation as they both had plenty to think about. At least the awkward conversation had ended on a positive note.

 

The hobbit didn’t know what to think knowing what her dwarven companions were doing with each other at night. Two males were never supposed to do such things any more than two females. Children and the future of the family was the most important part.

 

And yet, even as Llorabell reminded herself of everything she grew up knowing, Fili’s words rang in her head. Why can’t people find love for loves sake?

 

Llorabell wondered if hobbits had it wrong. She couldn’t help but think of the hobbits that never had families. Were they bonded to another confirmed bachelor or spinster? Were their people’s values forcing some of them to live alone simply because the one they wanted to be with would not allow them to have children?

 

Llorabell didn’t get much sleep that night as her mind scrambled to find footing in long held beliefs that were slowly cracking apart. It would be some time before she found sure footing again. There was simply too much to consider.

 

The next morning came in a hazy dull glow as the sun couldn’t penetrate the smoke from the forest fire. It wasn’t long before the two headed out towards the ford.

 

Llorabell pulled out the list of ingredients for her errose tea as they walked. At Fili’s look she held it out to him and explained, “This is all the herbs I need for my tea. I have one pack left so I have almost two weeks before I need to have more of this made."

 

Fili took the list with a frown, “This is the tea that keeps you from being pregnant?”

 

“It might help keep me from getting pregnant." Corrected Llorabell as they walked through the woods. “Its never really been tested for that, I don’t think."

 

Fili shook his head. “I don’t like it."

 

She looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

 

The dwarf handed her the list back as he explained, his brow wrinkled from deep thought, “If it helps keep you from getting pregnant won’t it hurt the baby if you are pregnant when taking this stuff?”

 

Llorabell frowned back at him before looked down at the list. She didn’t know what all the ingredients did, though she had all of them in her garden at home. “I don’t know."

 

“Then don’t take it until we know if you’re pregnant or not." Fili said as he kicked a small rock down the pine needle covered land.

 

“Fili if I don’t take this I will end up having my bleeding and I’ve been warned it’ll be bad. I might not be able to move much during it." Llorabell explained. “It would slow us down from finding the others."

 

The dwarf looked over at her with a vaguely uncomfortable feeling in his stance but he trecked on and countered her argument, “We’ll find a place I can protect you during it and if you do have it that means you’re not pregnant. If you don’t have it we’ll know that you are pregnant and you won’t be endangering the child with taking the tea."

 

Llorabell sighed but nodded, “Alright, but I still should look for the ingredients."

 

Fili nodded in agreement. They continued walking in silence for nearly an hour before Fili spoke up again, “How long will it take for you to know if you are going to have it or not?”

 

“I think two weeks at most." Said Llorabell before she stopped in her tracks and squealed, “Apples!”

 

Fili looked over at her before following her gaze to the apple trees ahead. Twin growls rumbled from their stomachs as they rushed over to their food. Fili frowned up at the high branches as they reached the trees. They were too high for him to reach without a running start and even then he might not be able to reach it.

 

“Fili."

 

Fili ignored Llorabell as he backed up. Llorabell stepped in between him and the tree with a scowl.

 

“Fili the branches are not going to support you. You’re too heavy!”

 

“Bilbo, you’re being ridiculous."

 

Llorabell folded her arms. “Look at those branches and then tell me to my face that you really think they’ll support you." Fili looked up at the scrawny branches. The tree looked twisted and oddly thin but the fruit was healthy and ripe in appearance. “Give me a boost. I’ll be able to get us some apples."

 

“No!” Cried Fili. “I can’t do that. What if you fall?”

 

“Fili, seriously? I’m not going to die from falling from that height. You’d probably be able to catch me." Said Llorabell with a roll of her eyes.

 

“But what about the baby." Whined Fili; he flinching at his own words as he spoke them.

 

Llorabell stomped up to Fili with a glare. The dwarf flinched again, reflexively, as the hobbit smacked him in the head. Fili opened one of his eyes to find a scowling hobbit still standing in front of him. “You are not going to start that drivel. Until we know for sure, you are not allowed to even try any of that nonsense. Got it?”

 

“Yes, ma’am." Fili had a sudden flashback of a similar occurrence between his uncle, father, and mother.

 

She nodded decisively before stomping back over to the tree. “Come on, you don’t want your baby starving now do you?”

 

“That was uncalled for." muttered Fili. Llorabell simply stuck her tongue out at him. That’s what he got for letting his mouth run off. Fili muttered softly in khuzdul as he gave Llorabell a lift up into the tree.

 

Fili took the pile of apples as an opportunity to redistribute the weight between their packs. Llorabell didn’t notice any difference since her bag was filled with apples but Fili had silently taken the majority of the weight. He also purposely had the apples they ate come from her bag over the course of the next couple of days.

 

The two traveled with lighter hearts now that they had food and their conversations reflected a lighter mindset. The two traded stories of their childhood. Both learned of each other’s families. And Fili learned to wish for a proper kitchen as Llorabell happily discussed all the different things she could make with the apples they had if they had the materials and time.

 

They both purposely avoided talking about the possibility of a baby, what their intimate act meant for each of them, and what they would do if they couldn’t find the rest of the company. There would be time for that later. Once they reached the ford, the two would figure out what they would do.

 

It took them five days to reach the ford because they had to avoid the still raging forest fire. By then Fili’s wound was healing nicely and Llorabell had only greyed bruises on her throat. The ford was easy to transverse as the river was low and the ford was well maintained. Once they reached the other side the two looked around in hopes of seeing the company or some sign that they had passed this way.

 

Fili hissed out a breath at the sign he did find. Large footprints were sunk in the mud. Fili knelt to take a closer look. His hands carefully traced the print of a large animal.

 

Llorabell looked down. “Is that a wolf print?”

 

“Warg, Bilbo." Fili looked up at her. “It’s fresh, maybe a day old."

 

“We should head out then." Said Llorabell, hesitantly. She looked around before turning back to Fili. “Should we follow the trail? The goblins did say a warg pack was following the company."

 

Fili grimaced. “That sounds like a death wish." Fili stood and looked up the river, in the direction of the warg prints. “I don’t know what other choice we have, though. We’d have to be careful."

 

A snarl snapped out of the forest at Fili’s words. Three wargs exploded out of the forest towards them. Fili snapped forward, drawing twin blades out. Llorabell freed one of her axes and let it fly. The warg dodge the projectile with easy. Wargs and dwarf clashed an instant later.

 

Llorabell tried to help out but Fili kept stepping between her and the giant wolves. She was able snap a blade into one of the wargs eyes at one point but Fili’s actions made it near impossible for her to help.

 

It wasn’t long before Llorabell and Fili were pushed into the ford. They needed to work together to survive but the dwarf stubbornly ignored Llorabell’s demands to do so.

 

Her outrage turned to horror as the wargs attacked in succession. The first two latched their jaws around Fili’s blades, allowing the third to dig its teeth into one of Fili’s legs.

 

Llorabell took her small elvish blade and slammed it into the warg biting into her dwarf while shouting out, “Fili!”

 

A great roar washed out her shout. The wargs fled as an enormous bear charged out of the woods. Fili sank to his knees with a hiss. Llorabell took up a stance between Fili and the bear as the dwarf tried to stand back up, using his blades as leverage.

  
They were going to be eaten by a giant bear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this turned out well. The whole argument/talk about what they did in the cave was difficult to write.
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Amad = Mother  
> Mahal = Aule
> 
> edited: 6/20/14


	6. Bears, Spiders and Elves, Oh My!

Chapter Six: Bears, Spiders and Elves, Oh My!

 

The giant bear snarled as it stepped closer.

 

“Bilbo, run!” Shouted Fili as he forced himself up onto his injured leg. Blood gushed out of the puncture wounds.

 

“Never!” Snapped Llorabell. She turned back towards Fili and scowled, “Get off your leg. You’ll bleed to death!”

 

Fili glared back at her. “The important part is the baby, Bilbo!”

 

“She’s not pregnant, dwarf." Llorabell and Fili snapped their heads to the speaker. A giant of a man stood where the bear had been. The giant sniffed loudly. “Though she does smell of you.” The two companions stared wide eyed at the giant man, both unsure what to say at that. The man sniffed loudly again, “You also smell like the others. Less pronounced. Neither of you have had sex with any of them. Recently at least.”

 

“What?” Squeaked out Llorabell even as Fili sank to the ground. She turned to him with a soft curse escaping her lips at the sight of the red water floating around Fili’s feet.

 

The ground was suddenly far below her. Fili groaned at her side as he was also high above the ground. The company’s burglar looked wildly around and quickly realized that the man-bear had picked them both up. The giant man ignored Llorabell as she spewed curses at him in the earth tongue.

 

She had reached her last straw. She didn’t care about respectability. What mattered was that Fili needed his wounds cleaned and bandaged, and that a giant man-bear was stopping her from doing it.  

 

The giant man made a loud, odd neighing shout. A moment later a herd of black and white ponies, in full tack, trouted out of the forest. The giant settled Llorabell on one of the ponies. Fili was settled right behind her. Then the man was a bear again and they were near galloping down a hidden forest path. Fili clung to Llorabell and she endeavored to not fall off.

 

As she finally began to regain her bearing, she found herself quite suddenly off the pony. Llorabell stumbled as she tried to keep on her feet. The man-bear laid Fili down at the side of a well hidden cave. Then he vanished inside. Llorabell stumbled over to Fili, quickly investigating the leg wound.

 

Most of the puncture wounds were only an inch or so deep. Luckily the warg’s canine had not found purchase on Fili and the teeth that had, had not harmed his knee nor found an artery. All the puncture wounds were on Fili’s calf. The wounds were puffy and red. An obvious swelling was starting. Llorabell took care to secure Fili’s pant leg above the wound before the swelling became too bad.  

 

A pile of logs, a giant wine bottle taller and wider than her, and a large pot landed on the ground a few feet away. The man-bear stared down at them both for a moment before focusing on Llorabell, “Little Bunny, we may stay here for an hour or so to clean his wounds. I will dig up the bandages in my stock while the water boils. The bottle has brandy that you can use in the mean time.”

 

The man-bear vanished back into the cave before Llorabell could say anything. Fili chuckled weakly at her side. She looked over at him with a scowl. “What?”

 

Heavy lidded eyes stared at her as a Fili grinned weakly, “Little Bunny.”

 

Llorabell scowled at him, “Shut it, you.”

 

Fili simply continued to chuckle at her. The hobbit huffed as she got up and stomped over to the giant bottle of brandy. She had to rise to her tip toes to get a proper grasp on the cork and yet couldn’t get it opened. She continued working the cork out, ignoring the chuckles from Fili.

 

“Ah, let me do that Little Bunny.” Rumbled the giant man as he step out of the cave’s entrance.

 

“I’m not a bunny, Mister Bear!” Llorabell cried out in frustration.

 

The man hummed as he plucked out the cork with easy and poured some of the golden brandy into a large waterskin he had pulled out of the pot. “It is Beorn, Little Bunny.” Beorn paused to give her a long look. “And you’re the missing companions of Gandalf’s company of dwarrow, are you not?”

 

“Gandalf’s!?” Exclaimed Fili from the ground.

 

Beorn ignored the dwarf’s outcry as he said, “They were mourning the loss of a kinsman and a bunny as they stayed at my home, three days past.”

 

Llorabell looked up at him, “Are they alright?” She suddenly frowned, “And they couldn’t have called me bunny! Kili might have under different circumstances but not as it is.”

 

“You realize that Kili is going to call you that when I tell him you said that.” Remarked Fili. Llorabell flashed the dwarf a glare before her eyes fell to the small puddle of blood pooling around his leg.

 

Beorn snorted as he handed her the waterskin, “They said a rabbit of the Shire.”

 

“Rabbit!” Squicked Llorabell in offense. “I’m a Hobbit of the Shire!”

 

Beorn pulled out a fire starter kit with a shrug, speaking over the laughing Fili, “They spoke of your home. You live in a hole in the ground, yes?”

 

The hobbit scowled at the man. Turning to Fili she answered grumpily, “Well yes. It’s called a smial.”

 

“A hole is a hole, no matter what you call it. You live in a hole by your own words, and so you, Little Bunny, are a rabbit.”

 

Llorabell dropped to the ground by Fili with a mumbled grumble. Fili’s laughter died quickly as she proceeded to squeeze the brandy in a sharp, hard spray into the wounds. By the time she had gone through the entire waterskin the water was ready. The water was quickly added to the waterskin and Llorabell again irrigated the wounds, this time having Fili pull his tunic up to allow her to cleanse his partly healed stab wound.

 

Beorn spoke up near her, “Fill them with this once you’ve cleaned out all the disperse. I will prepare the bandages.”

 

She looked over at the man-bear to find a large honey jar being held out to her. Looking inside it revealed it brimming with golden honey. Llorabell knew honey could be used for burns and little scrapes but she had never heard of its use in deeper wounds. Of course people in the Shire didn’t usually get deep wounds.

 

The hobbit looked back at Beorn. The giant man was carefully covering one side of the bandages in more honey. “Are you sure this won’t cause an infection?”

 

His dark eyes met hers with confidence, “I know honey, Little Bunny. It will help heal the wounds the way it should.”

 

Llorabell nodded hesitantly before carefully applying the sticky substance to Fili’s wounds. She would save the last of her green paste for later.

 

Fili made a face at the feeling before distracting himself with asking, “The others, are they at your home, Master Beorn?”

 

“No, your companions now travel through Mirkwood.” Beorn nodded at the resting ponies.  “I had given them aid in getting there.”

 

Llorabell and Fili looked at each other with equal amounts of worry. They could only hope that the wizard would help protect their family and friends from the evil of the forest. There was nothing else they could do. They both were just glad Gandalf had somehow found the others.

 

“How did they even get to your home?” Asked Llorabell as she frowned over Fili’s puncture wounds, trying to get the honey into the wound without causing too much pain.

 

“The great eagles aided them and Gandalf directed them. Now, here are the bandages.”

 

It wasn’t long before Fili’s wounds were dressed and Beorn had scoped both back onto the back of a pony. They rode the rest of the day. For the most part it was a silent ride with Fili doing what he could to rest. His head lay on her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist, tightening minutely as the pony jostled his leg.

 

She kept one of her hands entangled in Fili’s sleeve, part of her fearing the dozing dwarf would fall at any moment. But beyond that, the hobbit had little to do. She looked over the land in vague interest. There was little to see beyond trees and plants similar or the same as the ones they had walked past before crossing the ford.

 

They finally came to a stop as the sun began to set. They had not reached Beorn’s home yet, unless he lived in another hidden cave. As it was, it didn’t matter. Beorn help Llorabell and Fili into the cave and vanished back outside. Llorabell took a few minutes to make sure Fili ate and to check on his wounds. Then she ate an apple and curled up at Fili’s side.

 

Beorn woke them the next morning. The giant man gave them little time before he scooped them back onto a pony and continued on their way. It was late in the day before the group left the forest.

 

Llorabell realized something important had changed when a giant bee flew by her. Then the ponies began to slow to a relaxed walk. The forest soon parted to reveal a giant log cabin.

 

The ponies slowed to a stop some feet from the giant wooden door. A few minutes later Beorn stomped out of the forest and boisterously announced, “Welcome to my home Little Bunny! Dwarf.”

 

The skinchanger happily lifted Fili off the pony before heading up to the door. Llorabell quickly followed, pleased she hadn’t also been picked up, and trailed after the man. He pushed his door open with his free hand and a pack of giant dogs trotted out from the opening. Llorabell looked back after them with wide eyes as she walked through the entrance. The dogs were nearly as large as the ponies.

 

A sharp bahhing sounds had Llorabell stumbling around a sheep. She felt her mouth drop at the sight of it. It was walking on two legs. The sheep bahhed again as it passed and Llorabell couldn’t help but feel like she was being scolded for staring.  

 

“Little Bunny, come along!”

 

She forced herself to turn from the becular sight to follow after Beorn. As she walked around the cabin, she took in the enormity of it all. The log cabin was sized for Beorn. She couldn’t reach anything without having to climb.

 

Everything, except for the giant fireplace, was made from wood. The floors were covered in hay. There were sheep, goats, and dogs wandering all over. Llorabell stumbled up some steps as she passed a group of mice also happily wandering about on two legs.

 

Beorn led them down to a room with a couple large beds. Fili was laid down onto one. Llorabell smiled at the open annoyance Fili flashed at Beorn’s back. He had done well not complaining about the manhandling by Beorn. Kili would have gotten them kicked out of Beorn’s home and his land by now.

 

The giant skinchanger spoke, ignorant of the glare his back was receiving, “Little Bunny I will have food, bandages, and medicine brought up for him.” The giant gave her a long look. “You may want to get comfortable yourself.”

 

Llorabell thanks the skinchanger before he left. She was certainly going to enjoy having a bed while she waited on Fili’s recovery.  The hobbit lass rubbed her abdomen as she wandered around the huge room. The pony ride had left her aching as furiously as when she had first begun to ride ponies.

 

After making sure Fili was content as possible, being stuck in bed as he was, the hobbit lass slipped out the door. It took a few minutes of wandering to find an animal to help guide her but sooner than she had truly expected, Llorabell was sinking into a tub of hot water.

 

She sighed in contentment as she relaxed. Her body ached. She was sore in places she hadn’t realized were possible before this adventure.

 

The burglar stared up at the ceiling. Flashes of what had happened in the cavern flickered through her mind. Her face grew hot even as tears welled up. What had she done?

 

Llorabell scoffed at herself. She had already had her piety party. It could have been far worse. She could have been bonded to Gloin, he being far older than her and married. She could have been killed and eaten by that strange creature. The fall could have killed her. The mushrooms could have been poisonous.

 

“What’s done is done.” Stated Llorabell and her worries fell off her shoulders for the moment. What was done was done, there was no point in thinking in circles of what could have been.

 

She was bonded to a dwarf. He was handsome (in a hairy sort of way) and warm (literally). Fili was near about her age, sort of. He might very well prefer fellow males.

 

A flash of uncertain disgust, of fear, and mild confusion flickered to life. Dwarves were perfectly accepting of such relationships. Llorabell had never thought herself close minded but she had never even considered such relationships being possible before this adventure.

 

The hobbit chewed on her bottom lip, legs pulled up and her knees tucked under her chin. Did it matter?

 

Llorabell slowly eased back and soon was floating in the tub again. Her mind sluggishly thought the question over and over. In the end, no matter what scenario she could think of, the answer was simple, though it was perhaps a little inconsiderate.

 

It didn’t matter, so long as she was not confronted with anything too shocking. She didn’t know if it would matter if it did become blatant. Llorabell chose to ignore the possibility and finish enjoying her bath in peace.

 

Her abdomen ached sharply as she finally pulled herself out of the bath. Llorabell grimaced at the sharp jab. Grabbing a towel the lass dried herself. A trail of pink water down her leg caused her pause for a moment. The reason for her aches had become very apparent at the sight.

 

She was so very glad they had found a safe place to stay. She wasn’t going to be doing much of anything for a few days. Her monthly had come. At least Beorn was right, she wasn’t pregnant.

 

The lass sighed heavily before grabbing the somewhat clean clothes she had brought with her. Nori’s shirt was too big and the pants would have to be chopped down if she was going to wear it for long but it would work. She looked ridiculous in the clothes.

 

A goat brought her much needed feminine items before she left the area. A warm brick was waiting for her in her bed. A pain soothing tea sat steeped and steaming at her bedside. Llorabell glanced at the clearly drugged out Fili before getting as comfortable as she could.

 

They both were up and about nearly a week later, preparing to travel after their comrades into the forest. Fili’s wounds were healing well enough that he could put weight on them again. Llorabell had survived what had felt like hell.

 

Beorn gave them all the help they could possibly hope for. Their food supplies was stocked as large as both could carry. They were given material to mend their gear. Llorabell was able to find all the ingredients for her tea. Fili got a recent map of the area. The skinchanger filled their minds with advice for the road ahead.

 

Don’t bother with firelight. Don’t leave the elven path. Don’t touch the webs. Travel as far as you can each day. Ration the food with the expectation that you won’t have enough. Find a way to keep track of time because it will feel as if time has come to a standstill. You’ll think more time has passed then is true which can be dangerous when you’re trying to ration food and determine how far you’ve gone already. Never, ever leave the path.

 

Llorabell carefully mended a tear in her trousers as she thought over all the advice Beorn had given them. They would leave in the morning so Fili and her were working to finish up the last few things they needed done. The blond dwarf was outside carefully sharpening all their weapons while she mended all their clothing.

 

She carefully stitched the last section before tying it off and giving it a firm tug to make sure it would stay together. A soft dinging sound resounded oldly loudly to Llorabell’s ears. She glanced around in confusion, tugging her growing hair behind an ear, before finding where the sound had originated.

 

A golden ring lay at her side. The hobbit stared at it in surprise. She had forgotten about picking it up in the cavern. Llorabell picked the simple ring up. She turned it in her hand for a moment, admiring the way the light reflected of the gold. It really did look like it would fit her perfectly. Llorabell smiled. She should wear it around. Maybe it would garn Fili’s attention. Dwarves liked gold after all.

 

“Little Bunny.”

 

Llorabell fisted the ring with a rush of panic. She looked up sharply at the bear-man. Beorn appeared in the doorway with a faint smile. The hobbit stared in confusion. Why had she panicked?

 

“Come Little Bunny, my children have made a feast for you and the dwarf!” Cried Beorn cheerfully. “They made a number of dishes specifically for you.”

 

She beamed, her panic forgotten, “Of course, thank you Master Beorn.”

 

Beorn shook his head with an amused air, “You are always welcome here. Though, next time don’t bring dwarves with you.”

 

Llorabell laughed warmly and slide the ring into her pack. “I cannot promise anything.” Beorn sighed heavily but cheerfully led the little hobbit into the dining hall where his animal children were finishing setting the table for a feast of fresh breads, honey butter melting across grilled pears, golden honey-creamed oatmeal and more.

 

The next morning came cool, with mist spreading across the land. Autumn had come to Beorn’s land. Some of the trees had the faintest hint of color in their green foliage. Time was running short. Llorabell stood staring out over the misty land with a nostalgia for home. The Shire became misty and cool like this around this time of the year.

 

“Bilbo.” Fili stood nervously by their ponies. Llorabell looked at him with a slight frown. Neither had had a moment to talk about anything, between recovering and rushing around preparing for their travel. They had joked a bit but hadn’t really taken a moment to talk about the multiple subject they needed to talk about.

 

“When we talked about what happened between us...I didn’t realize…” Fili paused with a nervous shift of his feet. He took a steadying breath and looked up directly into her eyes. “Are we married? That is what bonding means to you hobbits, right? You said that you don’t have sex with another unless you want to stay with them forever and we had sex. You hobbits don’t go through any ritual, any contract or trade vows or anything, do you? You-You’re just married with the act, aren’t you?”

 

Llorabell stood, mouth agape, her mind thrown for a loop. She hadn’t expected Fili to notice that part from all the things they had talked about. Llorabell had truly thought Fili would have gotten stuck thinking about how hobbits were not open to certain relationships. That was what she had been stuck thinking about since their talk.

 

She was not prepared to explain the bonding between them. Llorabell had not even considered investigating the bond. They were supposed to be connected in a very intimate way. She should be able to know where to go to reach Fili. They both would know when the other was feeling ill. One day their bond might develop into something so deep they could communicate silently.

 

How was she supposed to explain that?

 

“I can’t.” Llorabell shook her head sharply at the dwarf. She looked away from Fili, missing the hurt and confused expression. “I cannot do this now.” She looked back at Fili. “Not now. Can we...can we have this conversation later?”

 

“Why isn’t a simple yes enough?” Asked Fili. Llorabell’s throat constricted. She shook her head helplessly. She couldn’t explain. Not now. Not ever, perhaps. Fili stared at her for a moment before stepping over to her and holding out his fist. “Fine, at least take this.”

 

Llorabell stared down at Fili’s outstretched fist. Fili moved his hand again, trying to get Llorabell to accept whatever he was offering. Finally Llorabell offered her palm. A gleaming, silver bead fell into her hand. Intricate dwarvish designs were carved and molded into the round surface. Llorabell could recognize the small Durin’s symbol repeated in the design every once in awhile.

 

“I’m supposed to braid that into my wife’s hair on our wedding night. I guess I failed to do that. You can give it back to me to do it properly when you’re ready.”

 

Fili pivoted around and stalked to his pony. Llorabell stared after him feeling less than dirt. She blinked back tears, pushing down the desire to cry over her stupid, foolish self. She dreaded trying to explain what bonding meant but she had hurt Fili in the process.

 

Llorabell pulled out her loop of leather around her neck and carefully strung the bead into the loop. She would explain when Fili wasn’t anger at her. Then he could braid the bead into her hair if he wanted. Llorabell’s hand clenched the bead through her tunic. She couldn’t see how he would want to, though.

 

Llorabell pulled herself up onto her pony’s saddle. She watched Fili’s strong back as he nudged his pony into motion. She was attracted to him but she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. Llorabell couldn’t tie him down to her simply because he felt obligated.

 

She couldn’t explain what bonding meant because it would tie him down. He was a young dwarf. Fili was the heir to Erebor. he had centuries of life left to live and a One to find. Llorabell could not, would not force Fili to take her as his wife because of some mushrooms affecting their rationale. With that in mind, Llorabell tightened her resolve and allowed her pony to trail after Fili.

 

The next few days of travel were silted. Neither of them were willing or able to put the short conversation behind them. Even as the days slowly moved past and distances from the conversation eased their treatment of each other, neither could shake the conversation fully. Whether or not she liked it, Llorabell needed to explain things to Fili. The hobbit stubbornly refused the obvious as they reached Mirkwood.

 

When they came to a stop just outside the elven path, Llorabell had moved beyond the difficulties with Fili. The forest was too distracting. Llorabell stood staring blankly at the trees closest to her.

 

She could hear nothing.

 

The tall grass they traveled through sang in her ears about fall and the sowing of their seeds for the next season. The forest wasn’t quietly singing of the coming winter, of their hibernation till the next year. There was no sound at all.

 

Llorabell hesitantly walked over to the closest tree and pressed her palm to its bark. A whimper withered through the air. It was quiet, near silent.

 

“This forest is sick.” Stated Llorabell to the air. She felt ill finding an entire forest sick. She had only ever experienced a sick plant or two, and an entire crop one year. To find an entire forest was horrifying. What could make an entire forest ill? Fear bubbled up at the thought. “Nothing good is in this forest.”

 

“Our friends are in this forest.” Said Fili as he stepped up besides her. Llorabell looked over at him at his words. “Are you alright?” Fili searched her face for an answer before looking over at the forest with a frown. “You don’t want to go in it. If we didn’t have to go after everyone I would have us go around it.”

 

Llorabell tightened her resolve before heading onto the elven path. “I’m fine. Lets get to everyone.”

 

“Remember to stay on the path.” Answered Fili as he quietly followed her.

 

Within minutes the sunrays were blocked by the forest’s foliage. The world dimmed to a dull grey. Llorabell led the way for a few hours. The world slowly grey hazy, the path became monotonous. Only the varying tones of the whimpers from the trees she touched allowed the hobbit to know they were still traveling through paths not yet passed. Finally Llorabell had to stop all together.

 

“Bilbo, why have we stopped?” Asked Fili.

 

Llorabell stared blankly ahead. Varying degrees of near perfect black met her sight. “I can’t see.” She whimpered. The pain of the plants around her seemed louder to her ears with her sight useless. Panic bubbled to the surface as everything combined - the haze, the whimpers of hurt plants, and the lack of sight.  “It’s too dark. Fili?!”

 

Arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a warm chest. “It’s alright. I’m here.” Llorabell turned around and burrowed into Fili’s chest. After a few minutes, when it was clear she had calmed, he spoke, “It shouldn’t be dark for another few hours but it is.”

 

“We have a couple more hours before the sun sets.” Agreed Llorabell as she pulled out of his embrace and grabbed onto his tunic. “We won’t catch up to the others if we wait for me to see again. You’ll have to lead us.”

 

Fili sighed, “We could try to light a torch.”

 

“But Beorn said it would be useless.” Countered Llorabell.

 

“It’s worth a try.”

 

The hobbit hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

 

“Don’t move.” Ordered Fili. Llorabell stood perfectly still as she lost her grip on Fili’s tunic. She could hear some movement as the dwarf moved around. Then the sound of the flint being stuck was heard. The sparks from it lit Fili in sharp contrast to the black world. Then the torch bursted into flames.

 

Hundreds of giant moths swarmed the light. Llorabell cried out as the moths slapped against her. Fili cursed and dropped the torch. It took a few minutes for him to properly snuff the flames. By then Llorabell found herself with at least one moth stuck in her hair. Bofur’s hat had fallen off and was on the ground somewhere.

 

“Fili!” She tugged at her curls as creeping tingles and goosebumps traveled down her arms and back at the feeling of something struggling to free itself from her hair.

 

“No, no. Don’t move. Let me take care of it.” Lorabell listened as Fili stomped over to her.

 

A hand carefully traced one of her earlobes, pulling a gasp from her. The hand moved away from her ear and into her hair. Llorabell could just convince herself that the touch had been accidental. She hoped her burning cheeks were masked by the darkness.

 

She didn’t know what touching ones ears meant to a dwarf but for a hobbit it was highly intimate. To touch a person ears was as intimate as kissing because of how sensitive a hobbit’s ears were. The sensitivity could cause arousal depending on the situation, which was the main reason one didn’t touch another’s ears just anywhere, anytime. She couldn’t believe Fili had done so so casually, accidentally or not.

 

“There.” Said Fili, his was voice soft and his breath brushed over her brow. Llorabell blushed more at the realization of how close Fili was. She quickly took a step back. A calloused hand slid down one of her arms and took ahold of her own hand. The other hand slid a familiar hat back onto her head. “Come on, I’ll help you so you don’t walk into a tree or anything.”

 

They began their trek through the forest once more. It wasn’t long before Llorabell found herself pressed into Fili’s side, his arm wrapped around her waist. The position made it easier for Fili to keep her from stumbling and walking into things. It also gave Llorabell a sense of comfort, though she wasn’t about to admit that.

 

“It’s darker than the cavern.” Llorabell remarked after a while, feeling both intrigued by the fact and wanting to fill the silence.

 

Fili’s voice rumbled through her body as he spoke, “It is odd. You’d think the trees would let more light through than udùlikhûrzudâl make.”

 

“Sorry?” Llorabell asked before she silently mouthed the strange word a few times.

 

Fili hummed, “what?”

 

“What does…” Llorabell paused for a moment before butchering the word, “udallkhazdul mean?”

 

The dwarf prince chuckled warmly. “udùlikhûrzudâl.”

 

She huffed in annoyance when Fili didn’t elaborate. “Well? You cannot just say some strange word to me and not explain it!”

 

Fili laughed warmly. “Ith um zaharshomakh mimel yâsith.”

 

“Fili!”

 

“It’s a secret.”

 

Llorabell grumbled under her breath. “New rule, no saying words in a secret language if you’re not going to explain them to me.”

 

“Well, that’s no fun.” Fili countered, “We’ve been talking in our language the entire time, why the rule now?”

 

“Uhf, owe.” The hobbit tripped over a tree root. She shook her foot as she used Fili’s support to stay upright. “Uh.. Now. I make it now because you’re talking to me in it.” Fili’s arm tightened around her waist and suddenly she was lifted off the ground. “Fili!”

 

“There was a large root.” Fili explained as she was set back onto the ground. “and I can’t promise I won’t speak my tongue but I promise it’s nothing too terrible.”

 

Llorabell smacked his chest. “No fair!”

 

He chuckled warmly in response. A few minutes passed. The only sounds heard were their feet crunching twigs and leaves. Quiet scurrying of creatures in the trees and the pained whimpers of the plants filtered through to Llorabell.

 

Llorabell spoke up again, “Do you see anything?” Fili didn’t answer at first. “Fili?”

 

“Nothing to worry about. Just a bunch of trees and tsahiizzûgh.”

 

“Fili!” She smacked his chest again. “Stop doing that!”

 

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Sorry, sorry. There’s just trees and roots and leaves. And a few half dead looking bushes. That’s all.”

 

The hobbit and dwarf walked through the forest for a good hour in silence. Llorabell spoke again. “Do you think singing would disturb anything out there?”

 

“No, would you like to sing?” Fili asked. “I’ve never heard you sing.”

 

“I remember that song about Erebor you all sang at my home. It was very beautiful, though sad.”

 

Fili hummed softly. “It’s an important song that helps us remember what was and what has happened. Would you sing something for me?”

 

“We can take turns.” Said Llorabell as she thought over what she could sing. “I’m not the best singer, just warning you.”

 

His arm tightened around her waist for a moment, “Sing and I’ll return the favor.”

 

“Yes, yes. Alright.” Llorabell clicked her tongue as she thought for a moment. “Alright, this is a song about spring. We sing this during our spring festivals.” Llorabell cleared her throat and began to sing quietly.

 

“When in the springtime of the year

When the trees are crowned with leaves

When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew

Are dressed in ribbons fair

 

When owls call the breathless moon

In the blue veil of the night

The shadows of the trees appear

Amidst the lantern light

 

We've been rambling all the night

And some time of this day

Now returning back again

We bring a garland gay…..”

 

As Llorabell fell silent, Fili started up another, familiar song,

“Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep, and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To seek the pale enchanted gold.

 

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep,

In hollow halls beneath the fells.

 

For ancient king and elvish lord,

There many a gleaming golden hoard…”

 

The rest of the day went by with the two trading turns singing songs. Every once in a while they would talk about the meaning of the song they had just sung. It kept the oppressive nature of the forest from pressing in on them.

 

Fili finally had them stop and make camp when he could no longer see well enough to be sure they would stay on the path. It did lead to a conundrum. Neither could see well enough to keep watch. In the end there was little they could do but curl up with their backs against a tree and some blades out ready for defense.

 

They awoke with the sun, though neither could tell. Fili had to give Llorabell food and water since she still couldn’t see anything. It took a number of hours after the pair began their trek for Llorabell to see again.

 

Days bled together with the same routine. The forest’s oppression slowly pressed onto them no matter how much they fought it. Having only a few hours a day where she could see drained Llorabell. Being the only one that could see left Fili anxious and incapable of finding proper sleep. He was the one that had to keep an eye out for enemies and danger.

 

What made it even more difficult was the forest itself. There was no clear way for the dwarf to tell whether or not they were traveling through the forest properly. They followed the elven path but everything seemed the same to him.

 

Llorabell couldn’t help with the feeling. She barely saw any of the forest as it was. The pained voices of the forest grew the deeper they went but the individual plants combined into a resounding cry of pain. It was not something she wanted or could listen to in detail.

 

The sickness of the forest became more and more apparent the deeper they went. While the forest was creepy in its stillness and quiet to Fili, it was a nightmarish symphony of hurting plants and earth to Llorabell. It wore on her as they went.

 

It finally became too much for Llorabell as they reached the first spider webs. The cries had become echoing screams. The forest was dieing.

 

“Make it stop.” Gasped Llorabell, her hands covered her ears. “Make it stop. Make it stop. Stop! Mâin! Mâin!” She curled up as the trees and earth responded to her cry to stop by shouting out to her for help. Their voices rang out louder then she had ever heard. The forest’s cry for aid echoed and vibrated through her head. It was all she could hear.

 

“Bilbo!” Cried Fili. The dwarf prince knelt in front of her and covered her hands with his own. He carefully pulled her hands away from her ears. It took a few shouts from Fili before she could hear him. “Bilbo what’s wrong?”

 

“They’re screaming and I can’t help them. They’re screaming.” Llorabell gasped. “They’re screaming. They’re screaming.”

 

“Bilbo! Bilbo who’s screaming?”

 

“The plants. The plants and the ground.” She choked out. “It’s sick. The forest is sick. The land is poisoned. It’s seeping into everything. The plants and earth are dieing. They’re screaming but I cannot help them. They’re screaming. They’re screaming. They’ve been.. they’ve been try-trying to find-d someone that can hear. The-eir screamss.”

 

Llorabell couldn’t focus on anything as the forest called louder and louder. She was vaguely aware of Fili scooping her up and carrying her. It seemed like hours before the forests screams faded enough that she could hear anything else. Fili’s voice was the first thing she heard. He was singing.

 

“There is a place on the east

Mysterious ring, a magical ring of stones

The goldbeards lived here once, they said

Forgotten is the kin that no one knows

 

The circled tomb of a different age

Secret lines carved on ancient stones

Heroic kings laid down to rest

Forgotten is the kin that no one knows

 

Wait for the sun on a winter's day

And a beam of light shines across the floor

Mysterious ring, a magical ring

Forgotten is the kin that no one knows”

 

“Fili?” Whispered Llorabell. Her throat ached. She must have been screaming for a time. As she focused on the blond dwarf, Llorabell saw his twin blades resting out and ready.

 

Fili leaned over to her at her call. His blue eyes gleamed with worry. “Are you alright?”

 

“I was screaming.” Llorabell said, not answering the question.

 

He stared at her for a moment before answering. “You were pleading for the screaming to stop. I think you were pleading even when you switched languages.”

 

Llorabell lay there with dull eyes. Fili didn’t ask or speak to fill the silence between them. He simply sat and patiently waited.

 

“Us hobbits are born with the ability to hear the voices of plants and earth. We grow up learning nature’s language. We can communicate with nature through it.” She explained. “We can ask for help and sometimes the plants or earth will answer. Sometimes it’s nature that is asking for help.”

 

“And you answer.” Said Fili. Llorabell nodded. The two sat in companionable silence for a while. “When we fell off the goblin’s walkway you shouted something. At one point I thought some of the earth had moved to break our fall but I convinced myself that it was the heat of the moment. It wasn’t, was it?”

 

“It wasn’t. I asked for help and the mountain answered. First time I ever had earth respond to my call, actually.”

 

Fili spoke, asking again. “Bilbo, are you alright?”

 

Llorabell lay with an aching head and the forest cries still ringing in her ears. “No. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

 

The dwarf got up and offered his hand to her. “Let’s get out then.” He grimaced slightly, “The path seems to have deteriorated so I’d rather we get out of this area in general.”

 

Llorabell grabbed his hand for a pull up. She stared over the path. It was nearly totally gone. “I don’t like it. Are you sure we are on the path still?”

 

“I backtracked a number of times. This is the only way with any of the flagstones.” Explained Fili. Llorabell nodded in understanding. They continued down the path and Fili filled the silence with banter, not because of the silence surrounding him but because of the sounds she could still hear.

 

Llorabell listened with half an ear. She watched as Fili talked away about some nonsense thing Kili had done as a child, one of his hands rested on a sword handle and the other still held her hand. His mustache swung around as he talked. Ever few seconds his eyes would glance over at her in worry. She couldn’t help but feel closer to him after everything.

 

“-and Kili tripped over his own feet, sending the pie flying right into uncle’s fac-”

 

“Fili.” Llorabell interrupted. “My name is Llorabell. I should have told you when I found out you didn’t know.”

 

Fili stared at her, his mouth agape. His mouth opened and shut a few times before he finally found his voice. “Llorabell-”

 

A clicking sound interrupted Fili. The two stared at each other in confusion for a second. Then, as one, they both looked up. A giant spider stared down at them.

 

“Fili!”

 

The dwarf pushed Llorabell out of the way as the spider fell onto them. Llorabell screamed his name again as more spiders fell from the trees. The clicking from the spiders shifted and changed. It sounded almost like they were speaking. It sounded like the spiders were talking about fresh meat.

 

Llorabell pulled her elvish blade out and slashed it at a spider. The spider squealed unmistakable words, “It stings!”

 

Both worked together fighting off the spiders but they were being overrun. Llorabell struck anything spider like that came near. She knew she hit her mark when squeals of “It stings” rang through the air.

 

Fili was more exact and skilled as he sliced through legs, fangs, and thorax. There were too many spiders. The two could feel themselves slowing down and weakening. Their travels through the forest had not been easy. Neither of them were prepared for a long fight.

 

A spider body slammed into the ground with an arrow in its eye, sending Fili stumbling back. Another spider took the opportunity to lung at Fili. An arrow killed it.

 

Within seconds after that the pathway was filled with elves and the spiders had fled. Fili glared up at their saviors, taking up a protective stance in front of Llorabell. One of the blond elves spoke with a cold sneer, “Gwedho din.”

 

Immediately after, Fili and Llorabell were bound and searched for weapons. Then they were dragged through the forest. Some hours later, where the natural light of the elves lit the world for Llorabell, they reached a stone bridge and were dragged through a stone gate.

 

The cavern they entered was lit with many soft glowing crystals hanging from the high ceiling, revealing root like structures and tall pillars carved with almost dwarven designs intermingled with barklike textures. Actual roots intertwined with the structures, adding an odd balance of nature to the design.

 

The distant sound of the dying forest was covered by the roaring of rushing water and a chanting coming from the stone. The earth surrounding them whispered words of protection they had been taught by elves long ago and the glowing crystals sang a song about the sun. Llorabell could tell that the poison had broken in through areas as some of the earth whimpered in pain but much of the kingdom was protected by ancient stone enduring to protect the rest.

 

Their hard work seemed for not though, as the poison had reached the elves. These elves were darker and colder than the ones in Rivendell. They reflected the poison of the forest. It wore them down, made the elves more dangerous and less forgiving.

 

The company of elves led them through the underground kingdom. They went through passages, over root shaped bridges, through stone doorways and up sloping stairways. Llorabell was thoroughly turned around by the time they were brought to a large dais.

 

Lounging across the throne was a blond elf with a crown of fall leaves. He stared at them with shockingly clear blue eyes. The leader of their elven company stepped forward and spoke quickly to the king. The two had a conversation for a time before the king waved his hand and their packs and weapons were brought forward. Both packs were opened and the items dumped across the floor at the word of the king.

 

Strangely, the ding of her golden ring hitting the floor vibrated through Llorabell. Dread and hate filled her as the elf king picked her ring up. His eyes stared hard at the gold ring as he lifted it up to catch the light. Llorabell watched as his eyes seemed to lose their crystal sharp appearance.

  
The hate faded but the dread grew. The stone they stood on rumbled in despair. And Llorabell was reminded of the voice that had tried to stop her from picking up the ring in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so first things first, life can get in the way sometimes. Sorry for the long wait. It will probably be another while before another update for this story. 
> 
> Next  
> Khuzdul:  
> Ith um zaharshomakh mimel yâsith - It is a secret my little wife.  
> tsahiizzûgh - yellow eyes  
> udùlikhûrzudâl - moss glowers
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> mâin - stop
> 
> Elvish:  
> Gwedho din: Bind them
> 
> Songs:  
> Llorabell's song: "The Mummers Dance"  
> Fili's first song: Tolkien's original poem for the Misty Mountains song  
> Fili's second song: "Newgrange" - this was slightly edited by me
> 
> I think that was everything to cover....
> 
> edited: 6/20/14


	7. Songs of Earth and Stone

Chapter Seven: Songs of Earth and Stone

 

The elves took Llorabell and Fili to a guard room where their outer clothing and armor, and any weapons they still had were pulled off. Then the elves separated the two, dragging Fili off down a different dark hallway than Llorabell.

 

The hobbit was tossed into what appeared to be an empty storage room, empty shelves lined one wall and an old cot sat across from the door. The thick wooden door was sealed shut. Only a crack of light spilled into the room from where the door ended a few centimeters from the floor.

 

Her cell was deep in the earth but far from the river. All she could hear was the whimpers and chanting from the stone. The hobbit tried to paid no mind to the earth. She had her own problems. But it was always present in the back of her mind, a constant aching throb she could not get rid of.

 

Hours slipped by and became days as Llorabell wallowed in the despairing position they were in. There seemed to be little hope of ever escaping and finding the others. Their companions would continue to the dragon with no burglar. They would think them dead for the rest of their days. Kili would never know Fili was alright, that he didn’t have the heavy responsibility of a throne loaming in his future.

 

She would never get home. Bag End would end up with some distant relative living in it. The Shire would know of yet another hobbit Gandalf had taken on some mad adventure, except their fears and warnings would finally come true. Unlike the past hobbits Gandalf had taken, she would never return.

 

Tears slid down her face, not for the first time. She would never see her family again. She would never smell the fresh apple pies Missus Brownlock baked every Sterday for the market in the fall. She would never curl up at the window seat her ma used to sit at and read stories to her during thunderstorms. She would never read the books her father collected over the years.  

 

She would never make it home.

 

Llorabell dropped her head to her knees. She couldn’t help but wallow, though she knew she shouldn’t be. What could she possibly do to get Fili and her out of the cells of an elven kingdom?

 

Llorabell didn’t know how long it was before an elf came to take her somewhere instead of simply bringing her stale bread and water. All she knew was she had been in the cell long enough to have a number of meals brought. The hobbit couldn’t say if any of the meals had happened within the same day, which spoke volumes on how sad of a state she was in. She couldn’t remember the last time she had the respectable seven meals a day nor could she remember when she stopped caring.

 

The elf guard brought her through twisting halls until a familiar dais came into view. The elven king rose from his throne as she was dragged up the last steps. Llorabell stared at the elf’s near black eyes, barely any blue shone through.

 

The king waved his hand invitingly at her. A flash of gold drew her eyes. Her ring rest on one of his fingers, which should have been impossible. The ring had clearly been sized to fit her, not an elf.

 

The lyrical voice of the king broke her from her thoughts, “Tell me, what is a halfling doing this far east with a dwarf for a companion?” Llorabell stared silently at him. Annoyance flashed across dark eyes, his mouth tightened into a faint frown, “Can you not speak?” When Llorabell continued to stand in silence, he slowly walked towards her and leaned over so his face was merely inches from her own. “I have reason to believe that a great quest is underway. You would awaken the wyvern slumbering in the depths of the lonely mountain.”

 

Llorabell frowned, her stomach dropped with fear racing up her veins. She didn’t know how the elf could come to that conclusion. Fili couldn’t have said anything. He would never betray his kin. “I and a dwarf would go do that? You must be mistaken-”

 

“I am not.” The king rose and walked away. “I know dwarven greed.” He turned back towards her. “You will be burned by it, little halfling. The greed of dwarves burns as brightly as dragon flames. It was a beacon to a fire breather. It will be a beacon to others.” He folded his hand behind him. “Dwarves have no room for one outside their race. Their greed leads to paranoia and mistrust. Whatever they promised you, you will not receive. You will be tossed out once your usefulness is at an end, if you do not die by dragon flame first.”

 

Llorabell stared up into the dark eyes. A shiver ran down her back as his words twisted a hint of worry in the back of her mind. A faint smile slid over the elf king’s face, pleasure gleamed in his dark eyes. “Return to me when you are willing to talk.”

 

Elf guards directed her back through the halls to her cell. The elf king’s words echoed through her mind. Llorabell looked back up at the elf guard as he freed her from her temporary bounds. Dark eyes, with a hint of green, stared down at her. Dread dug deep into her stomach as her cell door was shut.

 

She didn’t know what was going on but the darkness within the elves’ eyes seemed wrong. It was as if a shadow had fallen over them. The entire meeting with the king had felt off. There was something happening she didn’t like and there was something important she didn’t know.

 

The hobbit slid down onto her little cot. She stared into the dark for a while before speak out loud. “What am I missing? He said dwarves have no room for an outsider…” Llorabell closed her eyes in thought. “What were his exact words?”

 

“Their greed leads to paranoia...Whatever..whatever they promised you.” Llorabell’s eyes snapped open. “They.” She breathed. “Whatever they promised you, you will not receive. He meant more than just Fili.”

 

She stared at the door. “Could they all be here? But why would Gandalf let this happen?”

 

Having the vague idea that the entire company, or at least some of the company, were trapped here along side Fili and her didn’t do much for their situation. They all were still trapped in cells, kept carefully away from each other. No amount of sitting staring into the dark brought any ideas or confirmation of her suspicions to Llorabell.

 

The earth cries and chants became oppressive soon enough and she began talking to herself in an effort to keep it at bay. She spoke out loud her thoughts on Mirkwood elves compared to Rivendell ones in particular. The occasional response from the elven guards passing by her cell was her only real entertainment.

 

When she grew tired of talking nonsense, Llorabell was left with her thoughts and one of the few items left on her person. She stared down at the leather thong the elves had left on her, having only taken the blade. In particular, she stared down at the silver bead Fili had given her. He was supposed to braid it into her hair as a sign that they were married.

 

Hobbits didn’t really marry. The concept was somewhat strange. What little Llorabell knew about marriages seemed overly complicated. It involved agreements and a contract and there were consequences if the contract was broken. She had never paid much attention to it beyond knowing that was what a hobbit was supposed to call the bonding to outsiders.

 

The bead was beautiful. Fili’s One would look good wearing it. Llorabell bit her lip as tears welled up. Fili had a One out there somewhere and, being the heir to a throne, he was bound to find that One. She couldn’t stand in his way.

 

Llorabell clenched her hand, fisting the bead. She wished Fili was present. She could do with someone to talk with or to simply sit quietly with. Knowing where Fili was would have helped, even.

 

The elves had her so turned around she doubted she knew which way led up. All Llorabell knew was she needed to go right and take a left at some point. Her eyes snapped open.

 

She didn’t know where she was. She had no idea how to get to the guard room and the hallway she had seen Fili dragged down. How did she know where to go?

 

“Hiluaind!” Gasped Llorabell, her hand falling to her right ankle where her undnum hide. At her gasped word, the earth around her exploded with excited calls for aid, protective chants momentarily stopped. Her hands flew to her ears even as an hysterical bubbling of emotions tore up her chest.

 

This was the one sign she needed and had avoided investigating on her own. She was bonded to Fili. The bond was actively working. Hiluaind, her hearts guide to her bonded, was easily assessable and really always there in the back of her mind. She just had to think about him to know that he was alive and well - Hilualéan, his soul’s connection with her’s telling her all was well.

 

The two basic effects of the bond were present. There was no denying it. She was soul bond to Fili for the rest of her days and beyond. She had known but having evidence of the fact forced it home. Fili was her bonded and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

Llorabell yanked her leather thong off, smashed it into a ball and threw it at the door. A soft ding rang out, strangely quieting the earth’s cries. She glared angrily through her tears at the bead. Anger at the mushrooms, at Fili, at the wedding bead raged through her.

 

She knew it was ridiculous to be anger at any of those things or at Fili but she just needed to be anger at something. Llorabell ignored the fact that Fili didn’t know what he had entered into that night under the influence of mushrooms and their own attraction. All she could do was let the stream of anger out as she demanded answers from the silver bead.

 

“Why!?!” She demanded helplessly. Why did she have to burn those mushrooms? Why did Fili have to be so supportive? Why couldn’t he be mad at her for bonding his soul to her?

 

Finally the anger drained out of her and Llorabell fell into a deep sleep she hadn’t had since Beorn’s. When she awoke, guilt weighed her down. Whenever she looked over at the leather thong, her guilt spiked and her anger bubbled. Llorabell ended up laying on her cot, her hands covering her ears, ignoring the world. She only rose when a elf came with food.

 

Her anger moved from the bead to her wanderers bracelet. She tried to yank it off multiple times even though she knew it was bad luck to have it taken off before returning to where it had been weaved on. The once bright colors were dulled from wear but its message still rang through her mind. Her relative’s voices rang out,

 

_“All that glitters is not gold_

_All that is precious is not metal_

_A heart holds dear all that matters_

_May your heart guide you home”_

How could her heart guide her home when it could only guide her to Fili? The heart guided you home, hiluaind. Home was where your family and friends were but, most importantly, it was where your bonded was. How could her home be with Fili when his home was with other dwarves and at Erebor? Her home was in the Shire, not in Erebor. It was with fellow hobbits, not dwarrow.

 

Llorabell gave up on pulling the bracelet off and rolled over to stare into the dark ceiling. Her anger drained out of her again. Being trapped in a cell so far from the Shire, so far from anyone, was not helping her. How she wished she was home where she could talk to her uncle. He would be able to help her get through this.

 

After a few minutes she began to quietly sing an old song. It had never been translated from the earthen tongue but it felt right singing it, even though the elves might hear and the earth might start crying for help again.

 

"Cold as the northern winds

In Foreyule mornings,

Cold is the cry that rings

From this far distant shore.

 

Winter has come too late

Too close beside me.

How can I chase away

All these fears deep inside?

 

I'll wait the signs to come.

I'll find a way

I will wait the time to come.

I'll find a way home.

 

My light shall be the moon

And my path - the ocean.

My guide the morning star

As I sail home to you.

 

Who then can warm my soul?

Who can quell my passion?

Out of these dreams - a boat

I will sail home to you.

 

I'll wait the signs to come.

I'll find a way

I will wait the time to come.

I'll find a way home."

 

She opened her eyes, as she had closed them while singing. The anger and pain was gone. All that was left was a hollow ache. Her wrist throbbed under the wanderer’s bracelet. The throbbing was like the beat of her heart and it seemed to be the only sensation she could feel and hear.

 

It took a few minutes for Llorabell to realize it was the only sound. The earth around her was silent. The burglar-hobbit slowly sat up and looked around in confusion.

 

“Hello?” Llorabell repeated herself in the earthen tongue, “Fáilti?”

 

Something quietly resounded back. It sounded almost like a ding of metal against metal but was clearly trying to say something. Llorabell looked around for the sound. “Fáilti?”

 

A moment later the ding responded. This time the resounding sound was longer than before, as if she was hearing more of the echo then she had last time. Llorabell slid off her cot and slowly walked forward a few steps, nearly reaching the door. “Fáilti?” She called out quietly.

 

The resounding response came near her feet. The hobbit looked down and stared at Fili’s bead. Her lips were parted slightly, prepared to call out again but her throat felt restricted. She couldn’t make any noise. Shock shot through her as she stared at the wrought metal she had heard call to her.

 

The little lass sank down to her knees and, with trembling hands, picked up the bead still strung to her leather thong. She licked her lips and swallowed in an effort to free her throat. Then she whispered, with a hint of horse disbelief, “Fáilti?”

 

The bead responded, its voice sounded like metal against metal but had the happy rhythm of bees at work. The bead sounded thrilled, though all Llorabell could make out was the beginning, “ **Háillta...** ”.

 

The word didn’t seem right. Why would the bead begin with “white cow”?

 

Llorabell stared at the worked metal in wonder. There were stories, folktales really, of worked metal, stone, and earth speaking. She had never really thought the stories could be true. There was always some level of truth to a story, of course, but Llorabell always thought it was a way to teach important lessons like listening when spoken to and so forth.

 

She hadn’t given any of those stories any real credence. Yet here she was listening to the heavy accent of a wrought metal. She listened as the bead happily buzzed away at her, only a few of the words were easily discernable.

 

The little hobbit lass carefully tied the leather thong back together and slid it over her head. Then she picked up the bead. “Fáilti.” She said in the earthen tongue, “you want to tell me something?”

 

The bead buzzed back at her. Llorabell sighed as she understood a few words but nothing that would allow her to understand what the bead was trying to tell her. She went back to her cot and laid down, curling up to face away from the door with the bead resting on a palm. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Can you say that again?”

 

Llorabell ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she was starting to lose it. She was stuck in the dark with only the rare elf for companionship, talking to herself and now hearing voices that no hobbit had heard in recent times - or possibly ever. The hobbit lass chose to be optimistic about the situation. She fell asleep to the buzzing of the bead as it tried to communicate with her.

 

An elf came the next day and dragged her back before the king. Llorabell worked hard to ignore the elf and his poisonous words. Yet concern grew in the back of her mind as he spoke poetically of the evils of dwarves, of their all consuming greed.

 

When the doubt began to grow beyond that hint of worry, the buzzing of the bead snapped her from such thoughts. A group of words came through clearly for the first time, “ **...forged in determination, at his coming of age. He chose me to represent his favor and his love for his One, you.** ”

 

When she returned to her cell Llorabell pulled the bead out and demand, “I’m not his One. You were made for another.”

 

“ **He...me...One.** ”

 

Llorabell growled in frustration as she couldn’t understand what the bead was saying. Tears welled up, “I’m not his One. He gave you to me because he felt some obligation. You’re not for me! He didn’t make you for me!”

 

“ **He decorated me for his One.** ”

 

“When he came of age!” Snapped Llorabell.

 

“ **One not far away. Decorate at...house.** ”

 

The hobbit lass sank down onto her cot. “What?” She breathed out.

 

“ **Bear house.** ”

 

Llorabell stared down at the bead. “Beorn’s?”

 

“ **Yes.** ”

 

She rolled the bead between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the groves and staring as the faint light reflected off the intricate design. “He designed you for me.”

 

“ **Yes.** ”

 

Tears weld and her bottom lip trembled. The door slid open and Llorabell snapped her head up. An elf with shadowed eyes stared back at her with a sneer. The elf set the platter of old bread and cup of water done. Then the door slid shut.

 

Llorabell rubbed the tears from her eyes. Even if Fili had decorated the bead at Beorn’s he had done so out of some obligation. It hadn’t been from any belief that she was his One. It made Llorabell feel even worse for what had happened. If only she could get to Fili, she could return the bead so he could give it to the right person.

 

The hobbit-burglar sat in silence for the rest of the day. She didn’t try to communicate with the bead or the earth around her. Llorabell chose not to babble on about elves to see if her guards would react. She was too drained to do anything but lay on the cot.

 

A vaguely familiar elf came the next day with more food but he didn’t set it down and leave. The elf stood staring at her for a few minutes. Llorabell couldn’t help but acknowledge him after the silence stretched through minutes. The elf asked blandly, “Will you speak with my King, hafling?”

 

Llorabell stared for a second before shaking her head sharply back and forth.

 

The elf hummed softly as he set the platter down. “I do not understand why you’d give such loyalty to a pack of dwarves, even if one is the supposed king under the mountain. Dwarrow are a race of ruffians. They cannot not understand what it means to care for anything beyond gold and precious stone.” Bright blue eyes met Llorabell’s. “You and I are more alike than you are to dwarves. They may be more similar in height but they know nothing of land, of rich earth and green plants. Why do you stand by them?”

 

The little hobbit felt obligated to answer but until the words fell from her lips, she didn’t really understand the reasons herself, “They are my friends and comrades. We’ve bled together...I-I.” Llorabell dropped her gaze with a frown, “I trust them because of everything we’ve been through and I want to see them to their home. They may not care for green things but they care for the land and they care for their family and friends. I count them amongst my friends and I hold my friends as dear as they do.”

 

Llorabell looked back up at the elf. The elf looked contemplatively at her. “My King has thought to invite you to our celebrations in a fortnight but I will tell him it is for not. Your loyalty is commendable. I hope you do not get burned but I fear that hope is pointless.” She realized as the elf left, that he had been the head of the scouting party that had caught them. Llorabell didn’t know why but his back was what gave him away. She had stared at it for hours during the trek through the forest but Llorabell was starting to believe that she was losing it. This seemed like another sign of that fact.

 

The conversation left her restless. There had to be something she could do. Llorabell found herself passing back and forth, her mind swirling with thoughts. Most were outrageous ideas of charging through the Elven kingdom with her dwarrow and escaping through the gate before its magic sealed them in. Nothing came to mind on how to reach the point of charging through the cave like kingdom. They needed to get free first. Then they needed their weapons and armor.

 

Of course escape would be much more practical but Llorabell didn’t know how they could do it. The only entrance they knew of was the front door. There might be other ways out but how could they navigate to them before being found out?

 

Llorabell twirled the silver bead between her fingers as she passed. Thoughts whirled in circles similar to the spinning of the bead. There had to be an answer. It was a riddle in the dark. She just needed time to crack it.

 

She twisted around towards the door as she paced.  Light flickered through the door, reflecting of the metal hinges for a second as the elven guards passed by. Llorabell stilled and stared at the metal. “Of course.” She breathed out.

 

All she had to do was open the door. She just needed to convince the metal to separate from the door. Then it would swing open and she could go to Fili.

 

The hobbit eagerly stepped close to the door and called out in greeting to the metal hinges. No answer came. She called out again. Still no answer came.

 

Llorabell huffed in annoyance before kneeling in front of the door. Her excitement over the idea withered away as hours seemed to pass and the metal never answered her. As her excitement drained, her rationale decided to rear its head.

 

Even if she got out and found Fili, there was no way to find the others or to escape. The little hobbit kicked the door in frustration before dropping down onto her cot. There was no hope.

 

“ _You want the door freed?_ ”

 

She stilled for a second before looking up at the earth near the door. After hours of silence from the rocks and metal, Llorabell was able to tell what part of the earth had decided to speak to her. “I did but there’s no point. I’d just be put in another cell.”

 

“ _The elves want you locked away, like the dwarrow._ ” Rumbled the stone near the metal hinges of the door.

 

“Clearly.”

 

“ _But you wish to leave? With the dwarrow?_ ”

 

Llorabell sat up and stared at the stone. “Yes but there is no way out. The gate is closed and the elves will stop us, even if I could reach the dwarves!”

 

“ _There is the river._ ”

 

“What?”

 

“ _We could guide you to the dwarrow. We could guide you to the river entrance. The elves toss dead wood to float down the river through the entrance. We could get you there. You would have to find a way down the river but we could get you there._ ”

 

The burglar stared into the dark. Hope bubbled back to the surface while her fears of going insane grew. She had never had such a long, complex conversation with earth or plant before. She could just be imagining all of this.

 

“Why?” Llorabell swallowed nervously, “Why would you help us?”

 

“ _You can hear us. You know we are dieing. We help you so you can help us._ ”

 

Tears welled up in her honey eyes. “I’m only one little hobbit. What can I do that an entire elven community haven’t been able to do?”

 

“ _The elves cannot hear us. They turned their backs on the poison. They let it fester. They let it reach them._ ” The stone paused before rumbling slowly at her. “ _The elves turned their backs on us. They cannot hear us. You can. We can guide you to the poison’s source as we can guide you to the dwarrow. You can save us._ ”

 

Llorabell clenched a fist around Fili’s bead. “What would you have me do once we’re free?”

 

“ _Save us._ ”

 

“How?”

 

“ _Remove the poison._ ”

 

She rubbed her face in frustration, exhaustion slowly seeping into her bones. “I don’t know how!”

 

“ _Sing._ ”

 

Llorabell blinked rapidly at that. Memories of all the songs her kin had taught her, songs for healing, songs for guidance and hiding filtered through her mind. She had never used any of the songs for stone. She only ever used the song of awakening to reach the trees for help with the trolls all those months ago and the song for growing to her garden at home. Most of the songs she knew had always been simply taught for tradition but never used. “I don’t know a song to remove poison.”

 

“ _Learn._ ”

Her mouth hung open for a few moments before giggles and then full blown laughter, somewhat hysterical, fell out of her. Tears slid down her face and a grim smile spread across her pale face as her laughter died away. “Teach me in the morning.”

 

The next few days flew by as Llorabell learned the song to remove poison and asked to learn a few others. By the time they reached the night of the party Llorabell had memorized the song for removing poison and relearned the song to keep herself hidden. She knew the song for healing and had even learned the song that lit the crystals hanging as chandeliers in the higher halls of the elven kingdom.

 

Llorabell enjoyed that song the most as Fili’s bead took on the habit of taking over the song for her. The hobbit sang it the most often so that the bead would respond. Each song’s effect occurred in various ways. The lighting song took effect on any stone or metal that joined her singing and continued to work as long as that part of the earth sang, even when she stopped herself.

 

The bead glowed a soft white light, almost like the moon. It would continue glowing until the bead stopped singing. To have light in the small dark cell was the most amazing thing. It gave her more hope than anything else. It was proof that she wasn’t imagining it all. She wasn’t going insane.

 

Llorabell quietly ate her last meal in the tiny cell. She tried to keep her hands from trembling as adrenaline ran through her. Any moment now the earth would tell her it was time to go. Any second and she would be down the hall to get Fili and the others.

 

“ _It is time._ ”

 

The little hobbit jumped off her cot. Tremors ran up and down her body as she walked towards the door. A quiet grinding was heard as the stone visibly moved away from the metal brackets. The door swung open, hanging on the wall by the now bent lock. Llorabell stepped through and stared blankly around the hall.

 

She was free.

 

Llorabell snapped out of her surprise at her escape actually happening. She carefully pulled the door closed. The stone moved back into place, securing the door where it had been originally. Nothing was out of place. There would be no way for the elves to know how she had escaped. Part of her wished to see their confusion.

 

The hobbit shook her head at her straying thoughts and nearly sprinted down the hall following her bond to Fili. The earth’s warnings allowed her to avoid the few guards still traveling up to the feast. Many were clearly already drunk.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Llorabell reached a locked door. The earth around the door moved away without prompting. The door swung open revealing a staring Fili. He looked as bad as she felt.

 

“Bilbo.” Breathed Fili. “Llorabell...I knew you were there.” He walked to her in quick strides. A smile stretched across his exhausted face. She couldn’t help but match the smile with her own. His hand reached out and cupped her cheek. “I knew you were here.”

 

Fili’s forehead carefully pressed down to her own. The beads of his mustache swung up against her cheeks, one partly hitting Fili’s hand still holding her cheek. His nose brushed against her own and for second Llorabell thought Fili would close the distance between them both. Then the dwarf slowly moved away from her.

 

“We’re getting out then?”

 

Llorabell smiled. “Yes, after we get the others and our things.”

 

Fili stared at her with soft eyes before he caught onto all her words. “The others?”

 

She nodded. “They all are here.” The little hobbit frowned. “Well everyone but Gandalf.”

 

The prince frowned and concern filled his eyes. He looked down each direction of the hall. “Which way to Kili?”

 

“I’ll have to ask.” Fili snapped his head back at her. His confusion turned to understanding as she spoke in the earthen tongue, describing Kili. The earth responded but noted the other dwarves between them and Kili.

 

“We go this way but we’ll be getting others before we reach Kili.” Llorabell explained quietly as she pointed down the direction she had come.

 

Fili noded, “Lead the way.”

 

The first dwarf they came to was Ori. He was sleeping when they reached the bars of his cell. His door was made of bars with the lock connected to the stone wall. The scribe was too bewildered at their appearance to notice the stone moving to secure the door back.

 

“You’re alive?” Yawned Ori. “This isn’t a dream?”

 

“Yes.” Insisted Fili as they moved quickly through the halls to the next dwarf.

 

By the time they reached the next dwarf Ori had woken up enough to notice how the stone moved. Bofur slowly walked out, as bewildered as Ori. He stared at Fili and then at Llorabell. “Ya look good in me hat.”

 

“I think I’m having a very strange dream Bofur.” Cried Ori. “Did you notice how the stone moved?”

 

Bofur looked over at his hanging door. “Oh.” The dwarf breathed. He reached out and pulled the door back to where it belonged. The stone secured it back into place. “Aye, lad, aye I noticed. Bit preoccupied though.” Bofur looked back at Fili and Llorabell. “Ya both are alive then?”

 

“Yes.” Answered Llorabell. “Oh, uh… here’s your hat.” She pulled it off and quick handed it over. The lack of its weight left her strangely empty and light, she had grown used to its weight.

 

“Me thanks.” Answered Bofur, mild confusion still written across his face. Having the hat returned to it’s rightful place seemed to center the miner though, as he stepped over to them both and clasped their forearms in a proper greeting.

 

It took a good twenty minutes before they reached the next dwarf. The distance wasn’t great but they had to go around halls, up and down stairs to reach the area most of the others were being held. Kili looked devastated as he sat playing with a polished stone. His eyes were ringed with red. He seemed worse off than Bofur and Ori, his clothes hanging off him badly.

 

Fili rushed over to him. The others gave what little privacy they could to the brothers as the bar door swung open. Kili didn’t react to the creaking of the metal as the door swung. He didn’t pay any mind to the noise Fili made as the blond dwarf rushed to his side. It wasn’t until Fili was kneeling before him that he reacted.

 

Confusion glowed in dull brown eyes. “Fili?”

 

“Kili.” Fili answered, grabbing the back of Kili’s neck and pressing his forehead to his brother’s. Kili made a choking sound before he flung himself into Fili.

 

“Nadad! Nadad!” Choked out Kili as he clung to Fili. “Zu'furkhûn. Zu'furkhûn!” Kili looked up at Fili, tears sliding down his face. “Ohr ai-katûb zu'furkhûn.”

 

“Ohr akhùthûzh. Ohr akhùthûzh, Kili.” Choked out Fili, as much choked up feeling filled his voice as Kili’s.

 

Llorabell looked away as the two brothers composed themselves. When they rejoined the group, Kili paid no mind to anyone outside of Fili and so didn’t notice as Bofur pulled his door closed or the stone as it moved to keep the door in place. All he saw was his older brother back from the dead. The others couldn't really blame the young dwarf.

 

Fili kept a firm grip on Kili’s shoulders as he held his little brother close. Llorabell met the blond dwarf’s eyes and saw the deep thanks gleaning from them. She blushed at the intensity but give a slight noded before guiding them through the halls.

 

They came to Nori next. The red head snapped up, fully aware of his surroundings as soon as they had gotten a few feet from his prison. The thief looked sharply at them, relief flashing across his face at the sight of Ori. Then he focused on Llorabell and Fili for a moment. His guarded expression lightened to a grin, “Ya both have to tell us how yer alive once we’re outta here.”

 

Llorabell walked over with a smile, “Of course.” She agreed before pulling the door open, the stone, pulling away as she pulled.

 

Nori shook his head as he gave a strange look at the moving stone, “Handy skill that.. whatever that is.”  He looked back at Llorabell and paused. Llorabell watched as the thief looked her up and down, his braided brows rose up in surprise and he gave her a considering look. “Well this is certainly a twist. A little fun behind the camp is outta the question now.” He muttered before giving a hum and going over to Ori.

 

Llorabell flushed at his words. It was a reminder of them believing she was male and all the inappropriate flirtations. She would need to correct them all on that, though Nori didn’t seem as bothered by it as Fili had.

 

When they found Dori, he gave little in the way of a greeting, instead he immediately went to his brothers and began fussing over them. Nori slipped away to Llorabell’s side soon enough, leaving Ori to endure Dori’s fussing.

 

Bombur gave Llorabell and Fili a warm greeting, clearly pleased to see them alive. Then he went to his own brother to make sure he was fine. Once they started heading out again, he did wonder if the kitchen’s food stores were near by for a short deture. Bofur firmly shushed him, whispering fiercely about how he needed to lighten the load if they had to carry him again.

 

Llorabell and Fili glanced at each other at that exchange. Why would the company ever need to carry Bombur?

 

Oin stamped over to them clearly intent on giving them a full evaluation. Fili was able to get the healer to postpone it with Dori’s help. The insistence on finding Gloin helped give the healer pause.

 

Bifur insisted on pressing his hand to the moving stone for a good few minutes before giving Llorabell a slight bow, muttering “Abaninh”. His words got the attention of the rest of the dwarves and Llorabell knew from their expressions that they would be asking for answers once it was safe to speak. She couldn’t help but wonder at the word herself.

 

Gloin barked a laugh when they put his door back where it belonged. “That’ll confuse those pointy eared bastards!” He clapped Llorabell on the back, nearly sending her flying to the ground. “Glad to have our hobbit back.” He added as he clasped Fili in silent greeting.

 

Dwalin grumbled at them for taking so long but grasped Fili’s arm firmly and  muttered about having to tie a rope to him again. Llorabell couldn’t keep the smile of amusement she directed at Fili. The blond dwarf made a face back at her. She couldn’t wait to ask Dwalin what Fili had done to warrant a leash.

 

Balin was more than happy at seeing them. His smile was filled with relief as he looked Dwalin then Fili and Llorabell over for injuries. His smile faded as he looked over Llorabell. “When were you going to say something?” He demanded.

 

Fili stepped in quickly. “Gandalf’s to blame, Balin. He made Bilbo think we knew and kept us in the dark.”

 

“About what?” Asked Kili.

 

“Bilbo is a lass.” Answered the still frowning Balin. The white haired dwarf shook his head even as the rest of the company - excluding Nori and Fili - exclaimed over the discovery. “Quiet! Now’s not the time.” He flashed a sharp looked at Llorabell and Fili. “We’ll talk once we’re out.”

 

Fili nodded quickly, an almost instinctive reaction on his part. Llorabell wisely followed suit before pointing back the way they came, “We need to go this way. Some of our gear is this way and then we can get to Thorin.”

 

Balin looked confused for a moment but then Bifur said something and the confusion was replaced by an odd look. The oldest dwarf nodded, “Lead the way lass.”

 

Nearly all of Fili’s and Llorabell’s weapons, clothing, and gear were in the storage room. The companies outer clothing was present, along with Dwalin’s warhammer and Ori’s sling shot. The rest of the company’s weapons were missing.

 

“We need to find the rest of our gear.”

 

“All our armor’s missin’!”

 

“Those bastards took me axes.”

 

The dwarves all stomped around the storage room, raging over what little they found. Finally Llorabell called out as sharply as she could. “We need to keep going! We have only so much time left!”

 

None of the dwarves paid her any mind. The little hobbit huffed in annoyance and looked over at Fili in askance. The blond caught her look as he turned away from his bemoaning brother. Kili’s bow wasn’t in the storage room.

 

“Takât!” Fili roared out, reminding Llorabell of Thorin. The company fell silent, many giving Fili surprised looks. Kili was wide eyed. “We need to get Uncle and get out of here.” Fili stated sharply. He looked over at Llorabell, and stated softer. “Lead on.”

 

Llorabell guided the group down multiple flights of stairs until they reached the bottom of the Elven kingdom. They could hear the rushing of the river under their feet. There they came to a wooden storage door that swung open as the stone moved.

 

A moment later Thorin stepped slowly through. He looked as bad as the rest of them, if not worse. His frown turned into a warm smile at seeing them. That smile grew in brilliance at the sight of Fili. “Zu'furkhûn.” He said with warm relief.

 

Fili handed over Thorin’s outer tunic as the two embraced for a moment. Llorabell watch as the company all greeted their king with relief and warmth. She didn’t know what they were saying, as they spoke in their secret tongue but after a few short moments Thorin turned to regarded her with a considering look. “Burglar, it seems we have much to thank you for. I ask that you aid us once again. Lead us out.”

 

She nodded at his requested and lead them down towards the sound of the river. The stone’s directions led them to a cellar filled with large barrels. She and the company looked around. It was a dead end.

 

Fili step over to her. “Bilbo, shouldn’t we be going up?”

 

Llorabell looked around the room with a thoughtful frown. “The stone said there was a way to out through the river.” She looked over the dwarves and then back at the barrels. “You could all fit.”

 

“Bilbo?” Repeated Fili.

 

She looked up at him. “The stone said that elves send dead wood down the river.” She pointed at some of the barrels and walked across the room. “These must be the dead wood but I don’t seeee…” Llorabell swung her arms about and stumbled off the section of the floor that had moved under her. The sound of the river grew louder for a second. Then it quieted as the floor returned to a level angle.

 

Everyone stared at the floor and then exploded in arguments. Llorabell could hear various demands that another get in a barrel first and insistences that there had to be another way. The hobbit watched them argue for a few moments before looking around for some way to stop the argument. Thorin met her eyes where he stood away from the rest.

 

Llorabell stared at him before waving at the arguing group and flashing him a look. The king gave a slight grin before straightening up and barking out. “Everyone in a barrel!”

 

The entire group still at his bark, turned, stared at him. Then, as one, they all scrambled into a barrel. Thorin clapped Llorabell on the shoulder as he walked past and climbed into his own barrel.

 

The little hobbit lass looked around for a second. A pile of lids caught her attention. “Right, let me know if you need more air, some of these lids have cork holes.”  She paused before adding, “And if you want I can put your weapons in another barrel, in case it might weigh you down too much.”

 

Each dwarf gave her a slight nod as she set a lid in place. Dwalin handed over his hammer reluctantly. Fili gave up most of his blades, reminding her to remove her own weapons. Llorabell added a bunch of hay to a few barrels and then added the weapons and gear. She replaced a few lids at the calling request of some of them. Otherwise, everything went smoothly and Llorabell looked around for something to activate the ramp. She quickly found a lever and pulled it.

 

Sounds of talking elves snapped her from staring at the rolling barrels. Llorabell panicked as she watched her escape leave down the ramp. She hadn't thought about what she was to do to escape. The elves were going to find her. The hobbit did the first thing that came to mind. She jumped onto the sloping ramp and slid down after the barrels. It wasn’t until she hit the water that she remembered she was falling into a river.

 

Hobbits could swim, as long as the water was stagnant or extremely slow. In faster water the current simply moved too fast for a hobbit to navigate and fight against. Llorabell remembered the warnings about the Brandywine river as the water pulled her after the barrels.

  
She fought against the current as it continued to pull her any way it wanted. The dark tunnel opened, quite suddenly into light. Llorabell couldn’t take a moment to enjoy the view as the water dropped down a short waterfall as it rushed out from under the elven kingdom. For the hobbit the drop was all the water needed to pull her under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was one angst ridden chapter. Hope you liked.
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> zu'furkhûn = You're alive!  
> Ohr ai-katûb zu'furkhûn. = I knew you were alive.   
> Ohr akhùthûzh. Ohr akhùthûzh, Kili. = I'm here. I'm here, Kili. (liternal: I endure. I endure, Kili.)  
> abaninh = stone lady  
> takât = silence  
> Zu'furkhûn. = You are alive.
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> hilualéan = knowledge of bonded  
> hiluaind = heartguide  
> fáilti = hail  
> Háillta = white cow
> 
> Song:  
> "Exile" -- Enya (with minor edits)
> 
> published: 6/20/14


	8. The Light of a New Day

Chapter Eight: The Light of a New Day

  
  


The water rushed around her, pulling and pushing her every which way. She twirled and tumbled over herself. Llorabell struggled against the raging water. She freed herself from one current pulling her under only for another current to slam her up into the underside of barrels.

 

The hobbit found a hold on one barrel and pulled her head up. The water and her soaked clothing pulled her down but she clung on. She gasped for breath between the rough motion of the water dunking her head periodically. Then another current ripped her panicking grip from the barrel and yanked her back under.

 

Bubbles of precious air escaped her lips as she slammed into the riverbed. The faint cries from the river plants and the earth filtered through the water, echoing oddly in her ears. The current dragged her across the floor and then another pulled her upward again.

 

A horrid, familiar feeling grew at the lack of air. The edges of her sight grew hazy as she struggle to reach the surface. She was going to drown.

 

The little hobbit smashed into a fallen tree. Last of her air escaped as bubbles but she was able to pull herself up enough to have her head break free of the water. She swallowed both water and air before the small but raging waterfall pulled her over. Something snagged onto her tunic; it went over the tree with her. Whatever it was, wrapped around her as the current slammed her into a boulder.

 

Another current dragged her across the large rock. Then she rocketed across from the boulder to a barrel. It took a few moments for Llorabell to catch her breath, water expelled from her chest with wet coughs. The hobbit couldn't think well enough to wonder at her salvation.

 

Once she had recovered enough, Llorabell found an arm wrapped around her waist. A firm body was pressing her up against the barrel. Her eyes followed another firm, hairy arm and found it holding onto the rim of the barrel.

 

More rapids kept her from turning to look at the dwarf holding her. She didn’t need to turn, though. The lass knew which dwarf held her. Instead, Llorabell struggled to find her own grip so that her dwarf could worry about himself.

 

When the river calmed for a few minutes, Llorabell found herself pushed up into the large barrel. The barrel nearly capsized as Fili pulled himself in after her. The dwarf immediately pulled her up and lifted Llorabell into his lap. Then he proceeded to carefully check her over.

 

The little hobbit lass felt tremors run through her body. Last of her adrenaline rushed through her. She barely noticed the dwarf’s hands sliding down each arm and leg, over each side of her ribs and hips, and over her back. She ached all over and had many bruises but she was alive. She was alive.

 

Fili tucked her head under his chin and braced his legs in the barrel as the water picked up speed. “It’ll be alright Bilbo.” He said over the roar of the water as she continued to shake. “It’ll be alright.”

 

Llorabell wrapped her arms around Fili and clung to the dwarf’s soaked tunic as the barrel tipped into another rapid. The ride was not as terrifying now that they were in a barrel. As they spun in circles and knocked around every which way, a permeating smell of apples grew around them. The water made the smell overly sweet. Both hobbit and dwarf gagged as the combination brought nausea during the worse rapids.

 

Finally, with the rising of the sun, the currents pulled all the barrels to the side of the river. Fili let go of Llorabell and pulled himself out of the barrel. The little hobbit peaked her own head out and watched as Fili dragged said barrel over to the bank. He helped her out before moving to the others.

 

Her knees sank into the wet sand and gravel at the shore. She sniffled as her hands dug into the wet ground. They made it. She closed her eyes as relief replaced fear. The earth grounded her. They were safe.

 

Something cold fell to her hand. Llorabell looked up into snowflakes, the distant morning sunlight making them glow as they fell from the sky. She shivered as a cold wind blew over her but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the distant view. Peaking over the tree tops, glowing by sunlight, was a lone mountain peak.

 

Erebor.

 

The grumbling of dwarves broke the moment. The bunch stomped onto the shore, growling and hissing like a pack of kittens forced near water for the first time. Llorabell sniffled again as she noted that only Fili and her were soaked. That didn’t mean everyone didn’t looked terrible in the light of the new day. Everybody was worn down and exhausted.

 

Fili, Dwalin, and Thorin trudged over last, carrying the few weapons and gear they had been able to bring with them. The weapons were quickly divided between all of them. Llorabell received her circle blades and mother’s knife. The rest were given to various dwarves. Thorin ended up with her elvish blade. She was fairly sure Nori had most of her throwing daggers.

 

Llorabell listened dully, not quite able to pay proper attention, as the dwarrow discussed what to do. Balin brought up some town near by and a debate, as dwarves seemed inclined towards, was sparked. The little hobbit shivered as cold wind gushed over them again, snowflakes dancing around them. She wrapped her arms around herself.

 

Another pair of arms wrapped around her, startling her back to awareness. A sharp, stinging sneeze ripped out of her. Her throat hurt and the ache forced a few, still somewhat wet sounding, coughs out of her.

 

Llorabell blinked in surprise at the sudden tilting of her head. Oin stared into her eyes and pressed the back of his hand to her head. “Fever.” growled Oin. “Lass needs proper rest. Dwalin come carry her.”

 

“I can.” Llorabell shuddered as the words rumbled through her. She was leaning against Fili. The little hobbit watched as Oin shook his head at Fili and said something.

 

Thorin was growling in the background at Balin and Bifur. She only caught a few words but it sounded like they were telling Thorin she was a female. Bifur had used that word again, the one he had said in the dungeon.

 

Thorin looked furious. He’d probably demand she no longer travel with them. Maybe he’d be the one to shout out his outrage at the deception.

 

Thick, wet boots came into her vision and Llorabell realized she had dropped her head. Dwalin carefully scooped her up. Another sneeve snapped out of her. Llorabell made a pained noise before curling around her new source of heat. She tucked her face in against the dwarf’s chest and fell asleep to the smell of sweat, leather, and wet hair. It was strangely reassuring.

 

Llorabell was in and out of consciousness for days. She woke to broth and tea. Sometimes she woke half aware of Oin rubbing cream into her bruises, many in places that would have made her blush if she had been coherent. Every once in a while she would wake to the changing of dwarves watching over her. Once she awoke to Fili quietly singing as he cleaned a blade by her bedside. It was comforting and the care from the dwarves allowed Llorabell to heal quickly.

 

She woke fully coherent to find Ori quietly writing in an unfamiliar book. Ori was quick to get her water when she made a noise trying to speak. The young scribe shushed her as she tried to speak up again, “I’ll get Oin. Don’t move.” Llorabell watched the dwarf scurry to the door, pause and then turn back to her, “Don’t talk. Don’t move. I’ll get him.” Then Ori was gone, leaving the door cracked open.

 

Her eyes grew heavy as she waited. The stomping of dwarven boots jolted her back to the world. Oin stomped into the room followed by Gloin. The brothers worked with ease of familiarity as they prepared her tea from various herbs.

 

Oin checked her forehead with the back of his hand as he handed her a cup of steaming tea. “Fever’s gone. Good, good.” Oin tilted Llorabell’s head up, ignoring the fact that she had been about to take a sip. His calloused fingers pressed to the juncture between jaw and neck, “Swellings down to near nothing. Very good.” The dwarf then press two fingers to a different part of the juncture and stood still for a few minutes before nodding expectantly. Finally the dwarf order, “Open yer mouth.”

 

Gloin came forward with a lit candle in a odd metal box that had a single cut out circle at the height of the candle’s wick. Oin gave quick orders in Khuzdul that had Gloin shifting the candles position minutely. The older dwarf gave approving sounds every few seconds. “I’ll give ya a near full bill of health. Yer should be able to leave the bed in a few days. No wandering on yer own or nothing of the sort. Got it?”

 

Llorabell quickly nodded at the orders. While she wasn’t feeling terrible, she felt a deep bone exhaustion. She hadn’t been able to truly rest while her body fought off the cold. The little hobbit slipped into a deep sleep after finishing her bitter healing tea.

 

The company’s burglar awoke alone later that night. The room was dark, though the window was not covered. After a few minutes of laying, waiting, the little hobbit lass pulled herself up and out of the bed. No dwarf came rushing into her room. She had half expected one to appear demanding she return to bed.

 

Llorabell glanced at the door for a moment before walking to the window. Lanterns hung over wooden walkways, illuminating men and buildings. The lights reflected off dark waters. They were in a town on water.

 

“Why?” breathed Llorabell, a hint of fear flickering back to life. Her near drowning squashed any hint of fondness the hobbit had for large bodies of water.  

 

**To combat dragon fire, perhaps?**

 

Llorabell paused at the answer before looking down at the leather thong. It was hanging outside of her clothing, the silver bead glinting in the lantern light. She brushed a finger over the bead, looking back out the window. “Perhaps, but why build with wood then?”

 

The bead gave a noncommittal vrooming sound. Llorabell continued staring out at the dark town.

 

“Bilbo?” She looked sharply over at the door. Balin regarded her with a open frown. His eyes fell to the silver bead and the frown deepened. “We need to have a talk, lass.”

 

**My maker spoke to them of what happened but he did not speak of me until the healer found me.**

Llorabell clenched the bead. “Wha-” She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry, “What do you want to talk about.”

 

Balin waved at the bed, “To bed, lassie. You’re still recovering and we’ll not have you fall ill again.”

 

She climbed back into the large, man sized bed. Then she stared into her lap, fiddling with the bead and leather. Balin settled into one of the chairs sitting at her bedside.

 

“Now, we don’t blame you for not telling us that you’re female. We’ll be sure to let Gandalf know what we think about tricking us into bringing a lass on this venture.”

 

The hobbit glanced up through her lashes, “Then why-”

 

Balin raised a hand, halting her question. “Fili has told us what’s happened, though it took a bit of digging and finding his marriage bead on you to get most of it out of him. I’m sure we are still missing a few things but we got the important parts.” Balin leaned towards her, frowning over at her, “I was chosen to speak with you. Had to convince Thorin to not come barging in and bite your head off first but here we are.”

 

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Balin looked to be debating something before, finally, he spoke quietly, “I want the truth.”

 

“The truth.” She repeated.

 

“Aye, the truth. First, do you hobbits follow the elven traditions of marriage?”

 

Llorabell blinked rapidly at that. “What?”

 

Balin shifted, raising a silvery eyebrow. “Do hobbits become married through the first intimate act of sex? Is that act the equivalent of a marriage contract?” Balin waved his hands when she simply sat and stared at him, mouth agape. “Fili assumed this fact and felt obligated to fulfill the contract with decorating his marriage bead and gifting it to you. We need to know if the lad simply assumed too much. He’s young and prone to such things. It would be understandable that you’re not wearing the marriage bead properly because of that.”

 

“Obligated.” She repeated, feeling foolish as her mind struggled to understand the truth behind the marriage bead. Tears welled up against her will. “Obligated.” Her voice rose an octave.

 

She threw the blankets off her and scrambled to the door. She felt hot and light headed. She needed to get out.

 

Llorabell ignored Balin’s shout and threw the door open, fled down the stairs, and headed outside. She ran into Nori in her flight but dodged out of his startled arms. Her mind wasn’t working, a single thought vibrated through her.

 

He had felt obligated.

 

Familiar arms caught her around the waist. A wounded sound escaped her lips. She twisted in the arms and yanked off the leather thong and bead. Llorabell pushed it into Fili’s chest and snapped, “Give it to your One! I should have given it back earlier.” Fili’s arms dropped off her waist as if burned. She snapped out as she stumbled away from him. “You have no obligation.” Then she turned and fled out of the house.

 

Llorabell didn’t have any idea where she was when she finally stopped. Shivers ran through her as the cold sank its teeth in. She wrapped her arms around herself and realized she wore only a large, thin tunic.

 

Cold wind rushed off the dark waters in front of her. Distant stars winked and the great shadow of the lonely mountain stood immovable before her. Llorabell sank down onto a stack of boxes and watched the rocking of docked fishing boats.

 

Her heart ached. She hated herself for feeling it. She had known Fili had given her the bead from some obligation. She had known.

 

Tears filled her sight, blurring the world before her. She pulled her legs up, under her chin and tucked in her large tunic. It hurt having that fact confirmed. A part of her had started believing otherwise.

 

She was such a fool.

 

A coat settled onto her shoulders. Bofur came around and silently sat on the boxes with her. The dwarf didn’t speak; he simply lit his pipe and began puffing away. The smell of longbottom leaf hung around her before the lake’s wind blew it away. After a few minutes, Bofur silently offered over his pipe.

 

Llorabell accepted and took careful puffs. The ache in her heart grew as memories of her parents and their love for each other filtered through her mind. Tears slid down her face.

 

She didn’t know how long they sat there but Bofur eventually took back his pipe, took a last puff, and then snuffed it. He rose and offered his arm to her. Bofur smiled kindly, “Lets have a bit of rest. Things always looks different in the light of mornin’.”

 

Llorabell took his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the house. When she entered, the entire company rose from their seats. Thorin stepped forward with a open scowl. Fili quickly intercepted his uncle even as Bofur took a step in front of her.

 

“Now lads, lets get some rest and look at this all with the light of a new day.” Said Bofur.

 

“No.” Snapped Thorin, not allowing his nephew to speak. He rested a hand on Fili’s shoulder. “We have… Fili has the right to know what in Mahal’s name she’s been leading him on for!”

 

Llorabell flinched.

 

“But-” Bofur seemed to flounder, unsure how to proceed with his king giving demands.

 

“I didn’t mean to.” Whispered Llorabell. The words rang in the silent room. She kept her head down, not looking at anyone. “Fili got upset when I didn’t explain bonding and..and.. I meant to give the bead back when he wasn’t anger at me anymore but then we were in Mirkwood and the forest was crying for help with the poison and I couldn’t see and everything was screaming and-and the elves...”

 

Tears welled up. “I meant to give it back so he could give it to his One, so he wasn’t stuck with me for the rest of his life. I meant to give it back! He isn’t obligated to an-anything.” Her voice cracked as she rambled. Her arms wrapped around herself and she shrank away from Bofur’s reassuring embrace. “He’s not obligated.”

 

Silence stretched for a long time. Finally Balin spoke up, “Lass..Bilbo, what does bonding mean?”

 

Llorabell stared up at him with a helpless look.

 

“I have a right to know.” Cracked Fili. She finally looked at the blond dwarf. His eyes were bloodshot but his face was nearly blank. He stared coldly at her. The cold stare cracked every few seconds as he struggled to keep from crumbling. Those second struggles revealed pain and anger in his blue eyes.

 

“We all have a right to know.” Snarled Thorin. He lifted a hand to stale any complaints. There didn’t appear to be any beyond the dread spreading through Llorabell, “He is my nephew. He is my heir, the companies future king. You will explain to all of us.”

 

Her shoulders slumped. “I just don’t want to force Fili into anything, from being with his One.”

 

“That’s my choice.” Snapped Fili. He glared at her. “You cannot chose that for me.”

 

Llorabell nodded, “Of course. I-I-I.” Her hands shook. She folded her arms and tucked her hands under them, trying to control the tremors. “We-e hobbits-s aren’t rel-related to men-n.” Her voice shook, and she glanced up, “I-It’s a secret.”

 

The dwarves shifted at that. Her eyes dropped to the floor, missing the glances of discomfort from the company. Dwarrow knew the importance of a secret.

 

The company’s burglar took a deep, steadying breath as she explained one of the greatest secrets of her race. She silently offered up a prayer that they, her family, would forgive her one day. “We are our own race, created during the eve of Yavanna’s and Mahal’s bonding. We are created from earth and plant; and Eru gave us life so we could be a wedding gift.” Llorabell paused, “As all races, Eru gave us a gift. His gift is the chance to have a bond as close as that between Yavanna and Mahal. When we-e have s-sex for the first time, our...our soul bonds with the other.” She glanced up at Fili.

 

His eyes were wide as he stared at her. Llorabell finished her explanation quickly, “That is what the bonding means. Our souls are bonded for the rest of our days and its said to go beyond life. I-I don’t know what that’ll mean for us since you’re a dwarf and all but...there you go.”

 

Fili shrugged off Thorin’s unrestraining hand and walked over to her. “Our souls are bonded. What - Does that mean anything in particular?” He asked, his voice was slightly breathless. He looked hurt, lost, anger, and there was something else Llorabell couldn’t place.

 

Llorabell shrugged uncomfortably, her hands clenched at her sleeves, forming fists. She firmly stared down at Fili’s boots. “Every bond has hiluaind and hilualéan.” She closed her eyes and she reminded herself that Fili don’t know what those words meant. “Hiluaind means heartguide. I..I know where I need to go to reach you. I don’t know where you are but I can tell when I get closer to you or you to me and I know instinctively how to reach you. I don’t know if you can sense that too. With another hobbit, they would have the same feelings.”

 

“I can.” Fili stated, a hint of awe filled his voice. A hand firmly tilted her head up. The hobbit kept her eyes closed, the pricking of tears still clung to her eyelashes. “I knew you were coming to me in the dungeons. I knew where I needed to go to reach you in the river.”

 

The hobbit swallowed hard. She opened her eyes and stared up at Fili. Wonder glowed in his blue eyes. “What does hilluelaan mean?” Asked Fili.

 

She couldn’t help the quirk of her lips. It freed a faint smile at his mispronunciation for a moment before the heaviness of revealing such a secret came back. She pulled away from Fili. “Hilualéan roughly means knowledge of the bond. The basics is that I know when you’re hurt, sick, or well. It’s thought that some parts of a deeper bond stem from this basic form like Léanund...uh mindwhisper. My parents had Léanund. They could communicate over long distances as if they were right besides eac-”

 

Fili’s hand covered her mouth, stopping her rambling. “That’s how I knew you were drowning.”

 

Llorabell started, “What?” She breathed out. Fili’s hand muffled her words so no one understood.

 

He dropped his hand and spoke up, “You hid this from me because you didn’t want to stand between me and my One?” Llorabell nodded. Fili frowned down at her.

 

“Right.” Shout Oin, “Enough of this for tonight. Our lass needs to get back to bed!”

 

Fili turned, frustrated. “But-”

 

“No buts.” Oin countered, “She ain’t vanishing to the wind, lad. Lets all get some rest. You think on what you learned and then figure out what to do from there.”

 

The medic stomped over and placed a firm hand on Llorabell’s shoulder, guiding her upstairs. She didn’t fight him, even when he stuffed a cup of bitter tea in her hands. Llorabell fell to sleep listening to Oin’s grumbles of her running off into the cold autumn night in nothing but a thin tunic.

 

She woke up to find the dwarf she had least expected sitting at her bedside. She watched Thorin Oakenshield uncertainly as the dwarf stared out the window. A frown was etched into his expression. If she hadn’t seen other expressions on him, Llorabell would have come to the conclusion that the dwarf king was carved from stone with a permanent frown.

 

As it was, Llorabell carefully lay still and silent in the hope that he hadn’t noticed her awaken state. Silence stretched through minutes. The little hobbit almost fell back to sleep.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Her eyes snapped widely over at Thorin. The dwarf stared stubbornly out the window. “Wha-”

 

“You are bonded to my nephew. You’ll never bond to another.” Thorin finally turned to stare at her. “I can figure out what that will mean to you when you return home.”

 

Llorabell turned away from her leader. Her heart started pounded in her ears at his words. She had avoided thinking much about home since falling into the depth of the Misty Mountains. She didn’t want to think about what she would be coming home to.

 

“You’ll be considered a spinster.” Thorin said. “A hobbit lass that never bonded in the eyes of your people. Or would you be considered a widow with your family choosing to believe your bonded dead?”

 

She clenched her jaw and stubbornly stared down at her blankets. She hadn’t realized Thorin had listened in on that conversation between her and Ori. Maybe Ori had brought up the concept of a spinster last night, after she had left. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to think about it. She would have the entire journey back home to think about it.

 

Thorin rose and stomped around the room before returning to his seat. A steaming cup of bitter tea appeared between her eyes and the bed. “Fili has a duty to his people that this bond would interfere with. It will only be a matter of time before he finds his One. Once we reclaim Erebor it will take even less time. Then he will marry her and continue the line. He will succeed me and his children will succeed him. It is how it must be. How it should be.”

 

Llorabell took the cup and swallowed a gulp worth of the bitter tea. The bite matched perfectly with her bitter pain. Thorin was only confirming her thoughts. She knew he was right.

 

The dwarf king stood back up. “What is right isn’t always the easiest thing. You could have been selfish and claimed Fili had to be with you, that there was a contract he needed to honor. You didn’t, though.” Thorin walked to the door. Llorabell half expected him to pause and say something more, maybe even thank her again. He didn’t.

 

Oin stomped into the room a few minutes later and gave pleased mutters at her finishing her tea. He checked over her sinuses and helped place the bruise cream onto her back. Then he left and no more dwarves came to visit. She was left with her thoughts.

 

Strangely, while she tasted a bitterness that wasn’t from the tea, she felt lighter than she had felt in a while. As long as she didn’t think about what going home was going to be like, she could relax knowing that it was as it should be. Fili would go be with his One and she would return home. She would go back to the Shire and he would stay at Erebor to rule besides his people.

 

She ignored the few tears that escaped. There wasn’t any point in crying over what could have been. A few tears wouldn’t hurt though.

 

Bombur came with dinner some hours later. The redhead sank contentedly into one of the seats in the room. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

Llorabell turned to the soup he had brought her. They sat in companionable silence until her spoon scrapped the bottom of the bowl. Then Bombur spoke, “Ya know I found me One.”

 

The lass looked over at Bombur in surprise. He was still leaning back and relaxing. Anyone that came in would have assumed he was sleeping.

 

“I didn’t know you're married.”

 

“I’m not.” Bombur opened his eyes and looked over at her with a small, sad smile. “She’s a lovely thing but she doesn’t see me. All she sees is the metal she weaves. Her eyes are only for her craft.”

 

Llorabell stared, feeling uncomfortable over Bombur’s position. “I’m sorry.”

 

Bombur shrugged. “She doesn’t even know I exist. It is how it goes sometimes.”

 

“Have you introduced yourself to her?” Llorabell couldn’t help but ask.

 

“No.” Bombur flashed a shy smile. “Bofur tried to help but ended up being the one she noticed.”

 

“You should.”

 

Bombur’s smile widened, “After all this, I will. You shouldn’t worry about Fili. You both know the other exists. It’s just a matter of Fili figuring out what he wants is more important than what he has to do.”

 

Llorabell drooped her shoulders. “He doesn’t have any duty towards me.”

 

The redhead frowned at her. “That’s not what I meant.” Llorabell frowned back at him in confusion. Bofur shouted from downstairs and Bombur heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “Lads gotten hungry. Have a good night Miss Bilbo.”

 

“Good night Bombur.”

 

Oin allowed her out of bed the next day. It was just in time for the farewell feast with the Master of Lake-town. Llorabell followed the company and watched as the dwarves purposely stayed between her and Fili.

 

Dwalin took her arm to guide her as far from the dwarven prince as possible. Her heart ached as she followed. Fili had chosen what he wanted. She had said she’d let him choose. Llorabell followed Dwalin without complaint.

 

The master of Esgaroth was an obese man. He seemed to be hungry for gold and paranoid of the world. The obese man ignored everyone outside of Thorin, Fili, and Balin. Greed glowed in his sweaty face. Llorabell felt her stomach churn with the man’s actions, his values, and what it reminded her of.

 

Thranduil’s voice whispered in the back of her mind of dwarvish greed. “You will be burned by it, little halfling.”

 

The Master’s eager urgings for tales of Erebor’s wealth, led the company to ramble as they drank deeper into the ale. They all spoke around her of what they would do and buy with their share. Most of it was ridiculous, superficial things. Few of them seemed to be joking.

 

“The greed of dwarves burns as brightly as dragon flames.”

 

Llorabell shook her head. She needed to forget the elf king’s poisonous words. Her hand rose to clutch the silver bead she didn’t have. Kili’s voice filtered over to her as he spoke of the golden bow he’d have made. The hobbit stood and quickly left the room.

 

She found the balcony of the Master’s mansion. Cold wind blew over her as she walked out to clear her head. Few of their ideas were real. The dwarrow were all drunk.

 

It didn’t matter anyway, she was only here to help them regain their home. She was only the burglar. What they did with their gold was not her concern.

 

“Ya shouldn’t be out here.”

 

Llorabell looked over at the entrance. Nori stood just inside. “I’m fine.”

 

The red head shook his head and walked quietly over to her. “Yer still recovering from that cold.” He countered before leaned against the balcony’s stone railing.

 

She watched the thief for a moment before stepping up besides him and leaning against the rail besides him. Her side pressed lightly against his, stealing his heat. The hobbit looked over Esgaroth.

 

They dined like kings in a dirty, worn, wooden port town. It was barely more than a village, really. Only the wooden walls and the few short towers made it feel like a town, giving it more substance than it really had.

 

The clinking of metal drew her eyes back to Nori. He was rubbing the bowl of a familiar spoon between finger and thumb, the lockpicks attached dangled and jingled over the railing.  

 

The thief grinned at her, “Fine silverware ya have at home.”

 

Llorabell couldn’t help the slight smile. Once she would have thrown a fit at the impropriety of him taking one of her spoons. Now it just felt like Nori. Seeing it made the ache she felt grow. Her smile drooped at that reminder. She and Fili had found that piece of her home in the depths of the Misty Mountains. Fili must have returned it as she slept.

 

“Why’d you take it?” She asked as she turned back to the view.

 

She felt Nori shrug, “A good luck charm. Felt right taking something from where this all began. Thought to tease ya with it too.”

 

Her smile came back but the ache stayed. She was sure her smile was bitter. It tasted bitter.

 

“Ya don’t have ta be with Fili, eh?”

 

Llorabell frowned, her back stiffened. “Yes, I already said that.” Why did he have to bring it up now?

 

Nori hummed softly. “Then, once this horseshit is all done with and we’re still living somehow, I’ll come back with ya. Come with ya to the Shire, if ya’ll have me.”

 

Her head snapped up to stare at Nori. “What?”

 

“Got to return the spoon.” Explained Nori before meeting her eyes. His own dark orbs seemed to glow with heat that turned Llorabell’s cheeks pink.

 

A smile grew, peaking out from his starred beard. Nori leaned over and pressed his forehead to hers. Then he closed the distance. His lips brushing ever so slightly over her own. His beard rubbed against her cheeks. The mustache tickled her upper lip.

  
Then Nori stepped away and walked back into the feast, leaving Llorabell to her racing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbitish:  
> hilualéan = knowledge of bonded  
> hiluaind = heartguide
> 
> ...I don't think there was any Khuzdul this time. Feel free to correct me, though. 
> 
> And yes, this is now a series. XD (What have I done to myself?)


	9. A Hidden Door

Chapter Nine: A Hidden Door

 

Llorabell watched the water from the center of the fishing boat. Her hands felt sweaty as the boat rocked. She could still hear the fanfare of Lake-town cheering them off to their doom. In turn, the ghost feel of a beard against her cheeks and the edge of her lips remained from last night. Her lips still tingled from the brush of the thief’s lips against her own.

 

She hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Nori about his offer. She wasn’t sure what she’d say. He had flirted with her throughout the journey and he wasn’t bad looking by any means. Excessively hairy perhaps (they all were) but he was surprisingly well groomed for traveling for six months with only rare chances at cleaning up. The dwarf was even better sized, being the shortest of the dwarves. And yet, something deeply agitated her when thinking about accepting his offer.

 

He wasn’t her bonded. It wasn’t proper.

 

That was the problem. But it was a problem she’d see through eventually, once she was on the other side of the world from Fili. After the adventure was over with and she had time to get used to being bonded to someone that didn’t and couldn’t want her, she’d then be able to consider Nori’s offer.

 

The hobbit lass nodded slightly to herself. If they lived through this, she would consider accepting. Until then she had a dragon to sneak past.

 

“You alright lassie?” Llorabell looked up at Balin. The white haired dwarf smiled sadly and sat down besides her. The hobbit shifted so she could see him and the water but she didn’t speak up. She didn’t feel like interacting with any of the dwarves.

 

The elder spoke again after a few minutes of sitting in silence, “Bilbo...What happened the other day...I’m sorry it turned out that way. You should have been allowed a private conversation with Fili and Thorin. The rest of us shouldn’t have been present.”

 

Llorabell turned away from the dwarf. Irritation flared at his words. The conversation should have been between only her and Fili. It shouldn’t have been public. Thorin and the others had had no right to be present.

 

She couldn’t help but wonder if Fili’s decision would have changed if she had told him at Beorn’s or in Mirkwood before they had found the others. It was a silly thought. Fili was no push over. He’d decide for himself. He had. What was done, was done.

 

Balin hesitated for a second longer before rising. “I am sorry lass. If it had been anyone else but the direct line...” Balin sighed out, “It just had’ve been Fili.” Llorabell could see Balin at the edge of her sight move to clap her shoulder before hesitating and leaving her.  

 

Would this have turned out differently if she had bonded with another dwarf? Would she have chosen another if she had had the choice? Would she have chosen Nori or Bofur? Kili or Ori? Thorin? Dwalin?

 

Llorabell glanced over at Fili. He was leaning against the boat's railing with Kili at his side. A frown was stretched across his face. His brow was wrinkled from some deep thought.

 

She couldn't imagine bonding with anyone else but that was because she would not have chosen to bond with a dwarf in the first place. That was the reason. She would have chosen a hobbit. She would have chosen...Llorabell couldn’t think of a hobbit lad at the moment but she was sure there was one she would have chosen over a dwarf, over Fili.

 

Kili glanced over at her. The little hobbit lass snapped her head down and away. A flush crossed her cheeks at being caught looking.

 

The hobbit pulled out her cape and embroidery kit in a quick attempt to not look suspicious. She might as well work on it while stuck floating on water anyway.  A few minutes passed before frustration, irrational as it was, flared up.

 

Llorabell jerked as the boat bobbed back and forth, her hand missing the loop in the needle with the silver thread for the third time. Why couldn’t she thread the damn thing? The lass stabbed the needle back into its felt case before rolling up the silver thread. Tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to embroider anyway.

 

It was useless. Trying to focus on something constructive just brought on a hint of nausea and the imagined scent of wet apples. Llorabell stared up at the water. All she wanted to do was find a quiet spot to curl up in, cry, and ignore the world. It was a useless, pointless thing to want but she wanted it and nothing could distract her.

 

“Are you alright Miss Bilbo?”

 

Llorabell started, turning sharply to her side. Ori sat where Balin had. His new book out with a page nearly full of the sharp lines of dwarven runes.

 

She asked, ignoring his question and his formality. Some of the company had reverted to a formal address with her. She figured it was a way of distancing themselves from her. “Where did your old journal go? Did you fill it up?”

 

Ori sighed sadly and shook his head. “The elves still have it, I think.” He shrugged helplessly, “It wasn’t with the gear you led us to.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Ori shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Llorabell dropped her gaze to her lap. “I could have asked for directions to see if it was close by, if we could have gotten the rest of everyone’s gear.”

 

“Ask?” Breathed Ori. Llorabell looked up at the scribe in time to see him shake his head, “No, no I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. We’ve already had secrets explained we shouldn’t have heard. Fili explained a little about it to us - how you and Fili survived the fall in the mountains...”  Ori blushed as he paused in his ramble. “You don’t have to explain it. We’ll just think of it like abanizûghel.”

 

“Thank you...That’s what Bifur has, right?”

 

Ori nodded and the two fell into a companionable silence. Ori went back to scribbling into his new book. His hand moving quickly over the pages as he tried to write the journey down as he had before.

 

Llorabell turned from watching the ink flow from Ori’s fascinating pen back to the water. She really had to get one of those pens after this was all over. She’d be able to write and draw without stop for hours at end. Eyes traced over the view as her mind wandered to what she’d draw. She wasn’t very good but it was one of those relaxing, respectable past times she grew up doing.

 

It took a few minutes for her to realizes she was staring again. Kili was leaning on the boat like before, except he was facing her with his back and elbows press back against the railing. He looked thoughtfully in her direction. Llorabell hoped he was simply looking back towards Lake-town.

 

Fili, who she had been unconsciously staring at, was still deep in thought. He hadn’t moved from his place against the railing. Thorin now stood on his other side, saying something to his heir.

 

The company’s burglar turned away from the view and looked around for the others. The dwarrow were all busying themselves with something.  Bofur and Bifur were carving wood. Bombur was going through the packs of food provided by the Master. Nori was fiddling with his picklocks that had her spoon attached. Dori was pacing a small corner of the boat. Dwalin was sharpening some of her knives, his hammer sitting at his side. Oin and Gloin were sitting quietly together with a pile of dried plants and other medical things set between them. Balin was quietly speaking with one of the bargemen taking them to the other side of the lake: a tall and worn looking burnett fellow that seemed to have been through more difficulties than he had lived.    

 

Everyone was distracting themselves from what was to come. They were about to go to Erebor and awaken a dragon. The dragon could be dead but she doubted it. Where was Gandalf when you needed him?

 

Llorabell paused at that thought. Where was he, indeed. She looked over at Ori, “Ori.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Where did Gandalf go?”

 

Ori looked up from his writing with a start. “Oh.” He stared at her for a moment before giving a sheepish grin, “I’ve forgotten you weren’t awake when we traded stories with Fili. Gandalf is off on some wizarding business, left us outside of Mirkwood. He’s supposed to meet us at Dale.”

 

Llorabell frowned at that but was glad to hear of the planned reunion. She didn’t want to confront a dragon without their wizard. The hobbit turned to something else Ori had said. “What stories did I miss?”    

 

Ori grinned over at her before jumping into the various things she and Fili had missed. Nori joined in the retelling as Ori got to the part of them getting trapped at the top of burning trees. Bofur jumped in to embellish the story as they reached Mirkwood. Soon half the company told their own tale or embellishment of some event. The time final wilted away with her distracted from heavy thoughts.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

She couldn't believe some of the things that had happened or they had done. Flying on giant eagle sounded terrifying. Poor Bombur falling into the enchanted river and falling asleep was amusing until Gloin brought up their nearly empty food stores. Carrying the extra load of Bombur and his gear could have only expedited their hunger.

 

It took most of the day for the bargemen to guide the boat to the other end of the lake. The men docked at an old pier half destroyed by flames long ago. They left as soon as the company stumbled off.

 

Llorabell took a moment to stare out across the lake to the distant town. Ice floated across the water even though the sky was clear and the bluest blue she had ever seen. The distant trees were golden and red.

 

Winter was almost here. The earth must be slowly falling to sleep. Trees were preparing for hibernation; the deciduous plants were losing their leaves and the evergreens were settling in for the long haul. It would be awhile before the evergreens fell asleep but it wouldn't be long till the other plants rumbled with snores.

 

Maybe the land here was already slumbering, waiting for the day the dragon died. Perhaps the land was untouched by the poison within Mirkwood. Llorabell looked over at the closest shore. Maybe tiny seeds were waiting for the most opportune time to lay roots down and cover this disolation with green once again.

 

It was only a few days from Durin’s day. It would take them those few days to reach the mountain. That meant that there would only be a few hours, maybe half a day, to find the hidden door. They would search an entire mountainside for any sign of a secret gate. Then the dwarves would find a way to open it. And she would go in and steal from a dragon.

 

The hobbit lass frowned at that. What was she supposed to steal?

 

"Burglar!" Shouted Thorin from the shoreline. "We are headed out! Don't stray far behind. There's no time for sightseeing."

 

Llorabell turned to the shore and picked her way over the ruined, fire blacked dock, "I'm coming." She paused in her rush to the shore at seeing Bifur waiting for her.

 

The flower loving dwarf waved his hand in some sign to her and said,"Ith um rakit zurkîn-Ugaradzurmthahor."

 

"I'm sorry Bifur. I'm not sure what you're telling me." Apologized the hobbit.

 

Bifur rubbed his bearded cheek with a thoughtful frown. Finally the dwarf took her arm and guided her to the end of the dock, pointed down at the shore, and said. "Zurkîn-Ugaradzurmthahor."

 

Llorabell frowned and glanced down. There wasn't anything odd. It was just a little bit of sand. It was wet and likely cold.

 

Bifur lightly tapped her arm, drawing her attention, and he then tapped one of his large round ears. Llorabell stared for a moment before glancing back down at the shore.

 

"Listen." She breathed. The hobbit tilted her head and listened. At first all she heard was the shore and the dwarrow stomping up through the wet sand towards the looming mountain. Then she heard a very faint snore that was cut off by a soft whimper.  

 

Her hand tightened around Bifur's arm. The earth was asleep but in pain. It was like Mirkwood all over again. The earth was trying to sleep and gain strength to combat the poison, but the poison was still there. The earth would lose this battle soon if the source of the poison wasn't found.

 

Llorabell looked up at Bifur, worry gnawing at her. The dwarf patted her hand in sympathy and said. "Rakit."

 

Though she didn't know the exact meaning, Llorabell nodded in agreement and repeated. "Rakit."

 

"Eh, now what’s hollow?" Asked Bofur as he joined them at the edge of the dock.

 

Bifur shrugged non-commentingly. The hobbit choose to follow suit and shrug too. How could the land on the other side of such a large lake be infected with the poison in Mirkwood? Or was the poison coming from elsewhere? She would have to search out the source of poison as soon as she finished aiding the dwarves. She couldn’t leave the land in this condition, even if she hadn’t had an agreement to help already.

 

The stone and earth seemed worse off here. Llorabell looked up at the lonely mountain. Could it be the dragon?

 

Bofur hmmed at them. "Well don't let them noble lads hear ya talkin' like that, lass. Even if it is as random as any word to learn as I can think of. We'd all get in trouble if ya start to speak our Father's tongue."

 

Llorabell nodded quickly. She hadn't thought about any consequences of her picking up a word or two. Fili hadn’t said anything about it, though he hadn’t tried to help her learn the words either. She wouldn't do it again.

 

The two dwarves contentedly walked at her side trading turns at smoking one of the few pipes to survive the adventure. Bofur offered it to Llorabell a couple of times. she didn't accept until the hatted dwarf warned, "It's the last of me hobbit leaf, lass. Best enjoy it with us least you get homesick later." She spent the rest of the afternoon smoking Longbottom leaf.

 

That evening the dwarves and hobbit chewed the small amount of dried meat the Master of Lake-town had had packed for them, having no wood to make a fire nor any desire for cram. Llorabell fell asleep with the clinging scent of home on her clothes and the Ur cousins bunkered down near her. The pained snores of stone and the cold of coming winter surrounded her as she forced herself to rest.

 

The next morning brought them to the devastation of Dale. Great stone buildings still rose high above the ground. They stood with missing roofs and blackened by dragon fire.

 

Llorabell couldn't help but become nervous. The stone sat silent; no snore nor whimper could be heard. Bifur clasped her shoulder and guided her away. There was something disconcerting about silent earth no matter how many times Llorabell came across it.

 

Llorabell found herself slowing as the company headed closer and closer to the lonely mountain. She trailed behind everyone, dread sang through her as her feet grew heavier. She was going to steal from a dragon.

 

She was going to die by incineration. The hobbit tried to stifle the rising panic bubbling up from her gut. She was going to die. Fili was going to die. They all were and none of them seemed to care.

 

If they had Gandalf with them, they might stand a chance. But Gandalf wasn't here. He had gone off to do wizardly things, but they were supposed to meet him.

 

"Wait." The dwarrow looked back at her, "What about Gandalf?" she asked even as she knew they couldn't wait. There wasn't enough time.

 

Thorin frowned at her and waved a hand out at the surroundings. "Do you see him? We’re not waiting."

 

Llorabell pressed her lips together in a tight line. They were all going to die. She sighed before giving herself a sharp shake. That really wasn’t the way to look at things.

 

The hobbit lass look back at Dale for a moment. She was here to help them. The dwarves deserved to have a home once again.

 

“You going to stand there all day?”

 

Llorabell snapped back around. Most of the company was a good distance away, all of them moving quickly towards their mountain home. Kili stood waiting for her. The hobbit couldn’t help but wonder at that. A dwarf seemed to always be waiting for her.

 

“I’m coming. You didn’t have to wait.”

 

Kili smiled at her, his smile half the size it had once been. Kili had lost some of his cheer on the journey. She hadn’t heard him joke around since they reunited. “I wanted to.”

 

The dwarven prince fell into step with her instead of rushing to catch up with the others. Llorabell shifted in discomfort. Part of her wanted to ask after Fili, as if she hadn’t heard or seen him for months. Part of her wanted Kili to leave and go back to his kin.

 

“I wanted to thank you, you know.” Kili suddenly said.

 

Llorabell looked over at him in surprise. She had almost trapped his brother in an unwanted marriage contract. “What?”

 

Kili’s smile had softened, “You brought my brother back to me. So, thank you.”

 

She couldn’t help but smile back, “He saved me more often than not.”

 

The dark haired dwarf grinned at her, “That’s not how he explained it. I hear you saved him from falling to death, helped clean a stab wound-”

 

“Which he got because I had my blade out during the fall.”

 

“-Negotiated with hostile men, found food in which I am never to speak off (cough) apples (cough).”

 

Llorabell’s stomach ached at the word. She didn’t blame Fili for banning its use. Kili’s grin widened at the pained look she shot him.

 

“Helped fight a bunch of wargs-”

 

“Ha! Walnut-head was keeping me from helping! Thought I was pregnant, of all things.” Cried Llorabell. Her hand flew to cover her mouth immediately after. Being around dwarves had made her mouth loose. One of her aunts would have stuffed a bar of soap in her mouth by now, back when she had started thinking curse words.

 

Kili laughed as he continued, “-stood between a giant bear with only your letter-opener in hand, cleaned more wounds…” Kili grinned with teeth now, “Walnut-head got himself, and helped us all escape Mirkwood.”

 

Llorabell gave a helpless noise at the list. She hadn’t been much help in Mirkwood. She stated as much to Kili.

 

The dwarf shrugged, “That just means our Walnut-head finally got a chance to take care of you.” Kili looked over at her, “Ulum khâzith mud.”

 

The hobbit huffed, “He doesn’t need to care for me.” She wrapped her arms around herself in unconscious comfort and protection. “He has no duty to do so. And would you all stop talking to me in Khuzdul! Bifur is the only one allowed to continue.”

 

Kili just laughed some more and shook his head, “Fili might not have a duty to you but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to protect you.”

 

Llorabell shook her head. “I’m not saying he won’t protect me if I needed it. He’d protect any of us. I just meant...” The hobbit waved her arms around as she floundered for words. “I meant that he doesn’t need to worry about any duties as a husband to me. He knows that of course. I gave him the choice to decide what happened and he decided, didn’t he?”

 

“Uh..” Kili started, looking a little unsure. “You do realize he’s had all of four days to decide what he wants, right?”

 

Thorin’s voice rolled down to them, “Kili! We need your eyes.” Llorabell looked up to find the company all standing at the top of a hill, staring intently out at the mountain. All except for Fili who was watching them. “Search for any place that might indicate a hidden doorway!”

 

Kili shouted, suddenly serious again, “Yes sir!”

 

The burglar followed after, staring helplessly at the mountain. It was tall, though perhaps not as tall as some of the misty mountains. She could see the worn road leading to it, between two giant stone Dwarven warriors. She couldn’t see the sealed gates easily.

 

Llorabell tilted her head in thought, “Why and how are the gates sealed?”

 

Thorin surprisingly answered, his eyes never leaving the mountain, “The gates are made of metals and stone. You have to use a pulley mechanism to move them. At some point a scouting party returned to Erebor, during the early days of Smaug’s destruction, and found the gates shut. Not perfectly. Their report indicates that the pulley mechanism likely broke and that the dragon lodged the doors mostly closed.”

 

“It’s said there’s a gap big enough for a small bird to enter and big enough to see that something, a pillar or a statue or such was forced down behind the doors.” Added Balin. “It is as good as sealed.”

 

"Oh." Breathed Llorabell.

 

The company traveled down the road until the mountain’s shadow covered them and the area for miles to either side of them. Everyone split up and began searching the mountains side for some sign, any sign. The burglar of the company kept finding her eyes drawn back to the stone dwarven warriors guarding the gates of Erebor as she followed the king and miner.

 

The detail in the stone had not worn away. Dwarvish geometric designs in the stone armor stood out. The crest of Durin seemed to gleam on the axe blades. The blades themselves seemed sharp, ready for battle.

 

Llorabell stilled. Bofur and Thorin continued to walk over the wasteland, either uncaring or oblivious to her. There going up the side of one of the statue's legs and then up part of the axe handle was a pattern ever so slightly different from the rest. It could be stairs.

 

"Tho-"She cleared her throat,"Mister Thorin."

 

The king paused and turned to look back at her with a scowl. "What?"

 

Llorabell pointed at the statue."There."

 

Thorin frowned, looked over at the statue, shooked his head, and, to her surprise, walked back over to her. "Where?" She pointed at the statue again. He shook his head again, ''I don't see anything."

 

"The pattern that goes up the leg and axe handle, it looks like it could be stairs or used as such."

 

He took a step forward. His head tilted back and forth. Then Thorin turned and shouted out at Balin,"Hrzu sakhab umd abanurzurk' efùlâk?"

 

The dwarrow over on that side, at a better angle to the statue, took a closer look. Soon they were shouting in excitement. Llorabell watched as they half sprinted towards the hidden stairs.

 

A hand clapped down onto her shoulder, "You have good eyes Bilbo." She looked up and found Thorin smiling down at her. This was the first time she could recall him calling her that. The hobbit couldn't help but wonder why, after everything, he would start now. Llorabell didn't ask.

 

The company waited for Thorin before starting the climb. The stairs were outrageously large. The gap was too wide for her to safely cross. She struggled up the first step and, panting, stared up the gap to the second with annoyance.

 

"Excuse me, Miss Baggins." Said Dori from behind her.

 

Llorabell flushed, "Oh I'm sorry." She shifted to the side, only to squeak in surprise. Dori picked her up by the waist and, calling to Nori above her, tossed her up. She couldn't help but scream. The ginger caught her. His hands gripped her upper torso, right below her breasts.

 

Shouts from above rang down. Dori called back up that all was well. Nori smirked down at her, his hands slid down to her waist, "Ya alright there?"

 

Llorabell nodded even though her face felt on fire. Nori let go of her with a wink before jumping up to the next stair, using the stone wall as leverage to push himself up. Dori appeared behind her not a second later. He had just missed the position Nori had had her in.

 

"You quite alright Miss Baggins?" Asked the dwarf, seeing her bright red face. "I didn't hurt you sending you up?"

 

She nodded quickly,"I'm fine." She looked up at him. "You don't need to be formal, you know? I've told you all before but you've seemed to have forgot."

 

Dori smiled at her,"It didn't seem proper. You gave us the privilege without knowing we thought you male. It's still not proper as we're not family. But I thank you for allowing us." He suddenly scowled slightly. "I know some didn't bother to wait for the offer a second time."

 

Llorabell smiled at the polite dwarf before squeaking as he casually turned her around and tossed her up to Nori. It took three hours to reach a hidden balcony behind the dwarven statue's shoulder. By then the hobbit had grown used to being manhandled by two of the Ri brothers.

 

The balcony seemed more like a natural crevice but the stone felt worked, its voice seemed hidden from her ears. The natural stone's rumbling whimpers and snores echoed oddly to her ears. Whole sections of the mountain stayed silent.

 

There was barely enough room for everyone.

 

"Nori, Dwalin." Called Thorin. The two, standing by Llorabell near the stairs switched places with Thorin and Kili.

 

Llorabell looked over at the company. The half that could reach a part of the mountain's walls were hitting, kicking, and attacking the stone. Nori was the only odd one out with his ear pressed to a ceramic cup, clicking her spoon to the stone. Thorin called out for them to find the door.

 

The sun began to set. The dwarrow became more desperate. Llorabell feared her axes were going break with the force some were slamming them against the stone with. She felt useless as the dwarrow waiting at the sidelines somehow found room to join in the search. The stone never woke.

 

Finally the sun set and hope died from all their expressions. That was it: No door.

 

"Balin?" cracked Thorin. Confused despair was written across his face. Balin had no answer for him.

 

Llorabell watched as the dwarves despaired. Then one after another, they headed towards her and beyond to the stairs. They had given up.

 

"Wait!" She cried at the realization. These dwarves, who had traveled across the world on a fools hope, had given up already. The hobbit wouldn't let them, she couldn't. She would see the mountain returned to them.

 

''You cannot give up so easily!" She shouted at them. The dwarves ignored her. Thorin gave her a flat look and dropped the key to the ground before leaving.

 

Llorabell stared helplessly at the stairs. Annoyance flashed through her. Why had they given up so completely, so quickly? This was their home!

 

"What's the plan?"

 

Shock cut threw all her thoughts. She turned from the stairs and met blue eyes. "Fili?"

 

Her bonded shifted uncomfortable, "I know that everyone has been keeping us apart but... '' Fili grimaced, his hands nervously slid through his hair, "They're just protective, you know. Especially with them all having thought I was dead."

 

Llorabell shook her head sharply, "I understand. You choose your One-"

 

"Llorabell." Fili interrupted. "Do you not want to be bonded to me?"

 

She started at that question, "What?"

 

Fili frowned at her, "You keep saying you're not going to force me to acknowledge the bond. Do you not want me as a husband? Would you be happier if I chose to pursue a dwarrowdam instead?"

 

The hobbit stared at him feeling lost. She hadn't thought about what she wanted. She hadn't let herself to do so. "I-I-"

 

Singing rang through the area. "What the... " Breathed Llorabell. Stone was singing. She couldn't understand the song, though. The words were Dwarvish. Llorabell turned to the sound; moonlight lit the singing stone. A keyhole was visible. "Fili!"

 

The prince frowned at her but turned to see what she was looking at. "By Mahal!" He cried out.

 

Llorabell rushed to the stairs and shouted out,"There's a keyhole! The last light of Durin's Day is moonlight!" She turned to Fili sharply, eyes wide."The key! Where’s the key?"

 

Fili's eyes widened and then dropped to the ground in desperation. "It's here somewhere!"

 

The two searched for the metal in the dark, scrambling to find it before the clouds covered the moon. Finally Fili cried out, lifting the key. "Found it!"

 

Llorabell felt like kissing him in that moment. They shared grins before the blond dwarf turned toward the stairs.

 

The little hobbit lass turned too. The rest of the company stood, breathing hard, beams of pure joy and appreciation directed towards them. Fili silently handed the key to his uncle.

  
Thorin reverently took the key, walked to the door, and slid it into the keyhole. The king under the mountain had returned. The dwarves were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wrong, I thought this would be another drama filled chapter. It turned out pretty ok.
> 
> Let me know of any grammar mistakes and if I missed any translations.
> 
> Cheers,  
> NovusArs
> 
> Khzudul:  
> Ith um rakit zurkîn-Ugaradzurmthahor. = It is hollow like Mirkwood.  
> Zurkîn-Ugaradzurmthahor. = Like Mirkwood.  
> rakit = hollow  
> Ulum khâzith mud. = Like a husband should.  
> Hrzu sakhab umd abanurzurk' efùlâk? = Have you looked at the statue's carvings?


	10. The Heart of the Mountain

Chapter Ten: The Heart of the Mountain

 

Llorabell stood back as the company slowly, reverently walked through the hidden door. All of them were tracing fingers over the stone walls. Murmurs of awe rang through the otherwise silent hall and balcony.

 

The dwarvish song had ended as soon as Thorin had inserted the key. The stone was quiet. Llorabell could convince herself that the stones silence was because of the enormity of the situation: Just for a second. It felt right, thinking the stone appreciated the moment. But it was also unlikely.

 

Finally Llorabell followed the company. The hall had no decoration. Only a single carving was present above the door. Dwarven runes were carved above a design of what looked like a small shining, miss-shappened sun over some type of structure. After all the talk of gold and wealth beyond imagining, this was unexpected.

 

"Can I know what it says?" Llorabell asked, deciding against voicing her thoughts.

 

Gloin responded. His voice was as reverent as his movement, with a hint of shocked disbelief, ''Here in lies the seventh kingdom of Durin's folk. May the heart of the mountain unite all dwarves in defense of this home."

 

"Heart of the mountain?" Breathed Llorabell, a nagging feeling prickled at the back of her mind.

 

"Aye the Arkenstone." Explained Balin.

 

Llorabell looked back at Balin."What's that?"

 

"That," said Thorin from deeper in the hallway, "Master Burglar, is why you are here." She stared at the dwarf king. Her gut dropped. It was time for her to fulfill her contract.

 

Balin explained as the hobbit stood helplessly staring at the company. "It's a large white jewel. There is nothing else like it; you'll know it when you see it."

 

"Right." Breathed Llorabell. She continued to stare at the dwarrow. Nerves ran through her as she tried to make herself turn and head out. There was nothing left to do. "I best be going, then."

 

Silence stretch for a moment longer. Then she took a breath to steady herself and gave everyone a nod; she didn't know whether it was a goodbye or letting them know she would succeed. It didn't matter, one would be true soon enough.

 

"For Mahal's sakes!" Growled Nori as he pushed to the front. "If ya aren't going to, then I will."

 

"What?" Asked Llorabell. The thief didn't think she was backing out? Right?

 

Nori stomped up to her and, tilting her head up, stated bluntly, "For good luck." Then his lips molded onto her's and the little hobbit lass found her mind blank.

 

Some part of her was aware as Nori slid a hand to the back of her head and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss even more. Most of her was still unsuccessfully trying to understand what was happening.

 

A tongue darted across her slack lips and delved in. The tongue rubbed over her own. It traced a pattern against the roof of her mouth, sending pleasant sparks and tingles through her. The lips were pressed bruisingly to hers.

 

Then, quite suddenly, Nori was gone. A loud smack rang through the hall. It took the hobbit another moment to understand what was happening.

 

Dwalin was restraining Fili. His arms were locked under each arm, allowing the warrior to lift the prince off the ground. Kili was being restrained by Gloin in a similar fashion. Thorin was on the verge of a lecture, if his scowl directed at Fili was any indication. Balin was standing to the side looking disappointedly at his future king.

 

Dori was nearly strangling Nori with how tightly the silver haired dwarf was clenching his brother's tunic as he yelled in khuzdul at the thief. Nori was somehow scowling back at his brother while a side of his jaw and cheek was darkening to a nasty purple. The rest were all standing in uncomfortable silence, though a few seemed more amused than uncomfortable.

 

In the second she had taken it all in, she concluded that she really didn't want to know. Either Fili had attacked Nori or Dori had. If it had been and still was Dori, she didn't understand why Fili and Kili were being restrained.

 

If it had been Fili-It had been Dori. It was clearly Dori.

 

She did not want to deal with this. Not now. The burglar fled down the hall as her mind jumped back to why the princes would need to be restrained. She tried to squash the question; she didn't want to know. Now was not the time to wonder. The hobbit kept running, trying to flee the question and what the answer would bring.

 

Golden light filled her sight and the hobbit stumbled to a halt just inside the treasury. Mounds of gold, hills of treasure filled her sight. Her thoughts scattered as a new question sprang forward. How was she supposed to find a jewel in all of it?

 

Then another question snapped through her, forcing her to instinctively dive down to her knees. Where was the dragon?

 

Her heart pounded against her chest. She felt like throwing up. What idiot ran into a dragon lair?

 

Instinct had her stay perfectly still for a few moments longer. When she didn't become a dragon snack or a pile of ash, Llorabell forced herself to slowly stand.

 

She could see no dragon.

 

"He's not home," She breathed nervously,"Not home. That's good. Good. Good."

 

The hobbit stared out at the treasure for a few minutes. She had no idea where to start. Finally Llorabell slowly walked down into the closest pile.

 

She could see five different jewels she'd consider white. The burglar carefully knelt and picked up the closest one. Lifting it up the golden light turned the cut rock transparent. Was that considered white? Or... Llorabell picked up another rock to compare. The light revealed the faintest blue in its depths. Was this considered white enough?

 

Llorabell huffed and dropped one of the rocks to the side. A cascade of coin tinkled loudly as the rock slid down the pile of treasure. She hissed in horror, "Shush. Shush."

 

Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding in her ears. The sounds of the coins echoed out before dieing. No other sound was heard.

 

Llorabell stared out over the huge room. There was still no sign of the dragon but she could also not see the end to the treasure. It went on and on, beyond her sight.

 

The burglar looked down at the stone in her hand, "A large white jewel." She looked back up at the never ending piles of gold, "Very helpful."

 

Llorabell slowly and carefully made her way across and over the first pile. She might as well get an idea of the extent of her search while keeping an eye out for this white jewel. At the top of the first pile revealed nothing helpful. The treasure was still piled beyond her sight.

 

There were even higher piles then the one she had climbed. Shaking her head at the stupidity of this, the hobbit headed to the next highest pile. The vantage point might reveal the Arkenstone. The sooner she found it, the less likely she was going to be roasted.

 

As she climbed, the hobbit periodically picked up some treasure to look below. The hobbit was climbing a mountain of gold. The stone could be underneath anything. She'd be foolish not digging a little.

 

Llorabell picked up a golden goblet with that thought in mind. Gold cascaded down. It was like a terrible chain reaction similar to mudslides during spring by the Brandywine river. At the end, gold crumbled away to reveal blue and red scales.

 

Her heart dropped and her mind went blank. Then terror shot through her. A burst of air exploded out, revealing a nostril as gold flew across the room from the force of the air. She stumble backward. A golden, glowing eye slowly blinked open.

 

Her mind finally started working with a single thought running through her. She needed to hide. The earthen song for going unseen fell from her lips as the dragon rose. Her voice stuttered a few words out as the enormous, fire breathing monster stood on four legs. She was just twice the size of its eyes.

 

The dragon sniffed the air and slowly turned towards her. Golden light, like the treasure around her, seemed to radiate from the dragon: particularly from his eyes. It was alluring. She could get lost staring into the golden glow.

 

She pinched herself. She couldn’t stop singing. It would mean death. Llorabell continued even though part of her knew it wasn’t working. The dragon knew she was here. Smaug opened his mouth, revealing teeth longer than she was tall.

 

"Well thief." Hissed the dragon. "I smell you. I feel your breath. Yet I don't see you. Where are you?" His golden eyes swiveled back and forth over the area Llorabell stood trembling.  She continued the hiding song with more confidence. It was working, to some extent. She had a chance at living. "Where are you?"

 

She needed to leave. Llorabell slowly took a step back, then another and another. The treasure at her feet moved with every step. Smaug tilted his head in her direction. "Your breath isn't of terror. Yet it isn't regular. Little thief, do you speak without being heard?"

 

Llorabell stumbled back over some large treasure, nearly missing one of the words to the song. The hobbit glanced behind her. A set of pillars connected to a half buried walkway were a few feet below her. She ran, stumbling and sliding down the treasure while nearly screaming the words to the song hiding her.

 

She made it but the dragon had simply followed her, rumbling out in amusement, "Come, now. Do not hide. Come out." The dragon seemed to grin at her. "Come out and let me hear your voice. Let me hear this song you sing.''

 

The dragon shifted, its muzzle coming uncomfortably close. The smell of smoke and fire and sulfur filled her senses as dragon's breath washed over her. "Don't be shy."

 

The dragon's mouth glowed red and actual smoke spewed out. The dragon breathed it into her face. Llorabell struggled to continue singing as she breathed the smoke in. Her chest ached and itched. The smoke clawed at her throat telling her to cough. She was able to fight the urge for a whole stanza. Then air forced itself out of her in a desperate attempt to expel the smoke. Her song ended with the coughs.

 

"There you are, silent singing thief."

 

Llorabell coughed helplessly. Tears slid down her face. Finally she gasped out as the dragon watched her in amusement. "I am no thief...oh Smaug. I caame." She gasped between words,"came to see your magnificence for I had-d not believed the old tales."

 

Everyone knew the stories of dragon vanity. It was nearly as well known as their greed. She hoped the stories hadn't been exaggerating. She needed a moment to catch her breath.

 

He snorted in amusement but rose up so she could see his entire form, freeing his wings out and all. The entirety of his underside glittered with treasure, protecting his soft underside. She could see only one area that did not glitter. He was truly magnificent.

 

"Do you believe them now?" Purred Smaug, pleased by her reaction.

 

"Oh, yes-s. The tales fall utterly short of your enormity, oh Smaug, the stu-stupendous."

 

"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" Hissed the dragon. Amusement continued to color his voice and he seemed to almost laugh at her as she gave a desperate denial. The dragon lowered back down, shifting the treasure surrounding them. "Indeed. You seem familiar with my name but I don't recall smelling your kind before. Who are you and where do you come from, if I may ask?"

 

Everything in her screamed to run but there was no where to go. Going back would lead him to the company. She would have to distract him until she found a way to safely flee. "I-I-I'm from under the hill."

 

"Underhill?"

 

Llorabell nodded,"Oh yes, and under hills and over hills my path has led. And, and I am speaker of trees and whisper of stone. Spiders fear my sting.''

 

The dragon leaned closer to her, "Impressive, what else do you claim to be?"

 

"I-I am one who goes unseen. I'm a singer of unheard songs."

 

"Lovely titles." Smaug tilted his head like a snake, "And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?"

 

"Dw-Dwa-Dwarfs?" Llorabell stuttered out, a number of dwarven word she was very certain were curses rang through her mind. "No, no dwarfs her-''

 

"I know the smell and taste of Dwarf. You stink of them." Smaug rose and turned away, towards the entrance she had come through. "Now where do they hide? Do they wait outside while you come to do their dirty work?"

 

"W-wait!" Gasped the little hobbit. "Did you not want to hear a song?"

 

Smaug paused before turning back towards her, chuckling, "Little thief wishes to sing?" Smaug settled down facing her, his tail wrapped around his four feet like a cat’s tail. His golden eyes were turned down to her. "Very well, entertain me. If you sing well thief, I will kill you last."

 

Llorabell began singing the first song to come to mind that wouldn't hide her. Smaug would simply burn her if she tried to hide. She still had no opening to flee and he would go after the dwarves. So she closed her eyes, half expecting to be incinerated any second, and sang the lighting song.

 

She sang it twice over before she noticed another voice and then another and another join. Llorabell heard the sharp intake of breath from the dragon. "Oh this is a surprise. Perhaps I will keep you for a time."

 

Llorabell opened her eyes to find many of the stones surrounding her were glowing brilliant multi-colored light. It was like a rainbow. She looked up at Smaug as she sang. The dragon stared down at her with wide, glazed glowing eyes. More stones slowly joined in the song and Smaug relaxed, curling up around her.

 

On the fourth rendition of the song, movement behind Smaug caught her attention. The company were watching her, weapons drawn. They were too far away to see their expressions but a familiar silver light glowed from Fili. It had to be the wedding bead.

 

One of the dwarves accidentally hit something as a crash rang through the room. Smaug snapped towards the sound with a violent snarl. His snarl grew at the sight of dwarves. Acid spilled from his snarling lips. "Dwarves. Durin's blood."

 

Smaug rose and faced the company head on. "I knew this day would come! Dwarves come to take my gold - here to steal the Arkenstone! Dare enter my mountain and interrupt.” The dragon snarled, his mouth slowly lighting up with a red glow. “You all will burn."

 

The burglar saw her chance to flee and took it. But she didn't get far before Smang grabbed her up. The dwarves cries of horror roared in the background as Smaug purred, "Oh no. My little songbird mustn't leave."

 

The dragon set Llorabell onto the top of a broken pillar. Smaug turned back to the company, "Perhaps the one you smell like will be kept. You can procreate together? Can't you?" He stomped towards the dwarves. An arrow bounced harmlessly off his armored chest. "Another songbird for when you grow old. Yes a dwarf shall live for now...if he avoids my flames."

 

Llorabell watched the company flee into the mountain, dragon fire chasing them. The great serpent slithered after. He was almost silent in his movements as he, once again, reminded Llorabell of a cat. This time Smaug was playing with his prey.

 

The hobbit clung helplessly to the top of the broken pillar wishing she was with the company. She should be. The little hobbit lass searched around. She would be with them. As soon as she got down. Somehow.

 

Llorabell laid onto her stomach and leaned over the pillar, firmly squashing the faint panic at the sharp drop - there wasn't a dwarf around to save her this time. The pillar had ornate carvings. They were deep and large enough that she should be able to get a grip on them and climb down.  

 

The blond hesitated for a moment before slowly sliding back across her stomach. Her feet dangled and her hands grasped the pillar's broken top. The mantra of "Don't slip" repeated through her mind.

 

Her booted feet scraped against the carvings. One foot found purchase. the other didn't.

 

Llorabell growled in frustration. "Damned boots." She pushed up with the one foot only for it to lose its hold. She jerked. Her weight pulled her down and her jaw almost slammed into the pillar’s top has her head slid over the edge. The hobbit barely held on. Her fingers dug into the broken stone. Her feet slid across the pillar's surface uselessly.

 

A sense of déjà vu rushed through her. She was going to fall.

 

The burglar’s arms strained as she tried to pull herself up. Her fingers hurt digging into the stone. It wasn’t enough. She didn’t have the strength.

 

She fell.

 

Her legs hit the pile of treasure first. A sharp pain stabbed up from one. Then she fell backwards and her head hit something, sending a ringing through her ears. Llorabell didn’t have time to react, she might have even lost consciousness for a second, as the hobbit found herself rolling down the hill of treasure. She couldn’t remember when she had started rolling. The hobbit didn’t have time to wonder.

 

She rolled over and into numerous items with hard edges. Much of the hill she was rolling down joined her in sliding down the pile. By the time the hobbit stopped, her body was covered in bruises and aches, and she found herself partly buried in treasure.

 

Llorabell laid dazed. She couldn’t focus on anything. There was something she needed to do but she couldn’t remember.

 

The room shook as a great roar echoed. The hobbit quickly sat up as the another roar from the dragon, she had somehow forgotten about, rang out. Nausea rolled through her. Llorabell tried to ignore the feeling. She needed to get to the others.

 

The hobbit pulled herself out of the treasure and stood. A sharp ache flared from her ankle. Llorabell grimaced but, at the sound of another roar, ignored the pain.

 

The roll down the hill of treasure had gotten her closer to the exit the dwarrow had fled down. Llorabell limped quickly over to it. She took a few steps across the walkway before her mind registered the heat. The hobbit stumbled away, her feet hurting.

 

She dropped down on some stairs. Heat radiated off the floor in front of her. Smaug had breathed fire earlier. The floor and walls were still shockingly hot.

 

Llorabell took another moment to collect her thoughts before she quickly pulled her boots off. The hard leather soles of the shoes were burned and slightly melted. Her feet’s soles were red and irritated. The hurt ankle was darkening with a bruise.

 

Another dragon roar, further away this time, echoed into the treasury. There had to be something she could do. The little hobbit lass bit her lip as the nasua, the ringing in her ears, the pain from her feet and the aches from all the bruises from the fall brought frustrated tears to her eyes.

 

After a few deep breaths, Llorabell forced herself back up. The only way out of the treasury she knew of was through the hidden door. She’d go there and see if there was anything in Oin’s packs that would help her focus and dull the pain. Then she’d find a way to the others.

 

Turning back to the hall she had come from, a bright white light stung her eyes. Llorabell frowned and squinted. Under normal circumstances the light would not be so painful. It didn’t consume the room but felt like a mini sun to her eyes. Her head throbed.

 

Going closer to the light, a brilliant large white stone was glowing. She couldn’t hear it singing the lighting song. The hobbit struggled up the hill to the glowing stone. Standing right infront of it didn’t reveal any singing. It was silent.

 

Llorabell picked up the stone. It was of purest white. It was glowing but not because of the lighting song. The stone was large and finally cut with what appeared to be thousands of triangular faces to enhance the glow.

 

“You’re the Arkenstone.” She groaned out as her head began to throb in earnest. Her eyes watered from staring at the jewel but the ache from staring at too bright and sharp a light began to lessen. She felt terrible. Llorabell sighed, “I guess you’ll come with me.”

 

With that the hobbit limped up and out of the treasury. The hall darkened as she left the golden glow of gold behind but the Arkenstone’s light illuminated the silent carved stone walls.

 

It reminded Llorabell of her bead - Fili’s bead for his One. Yet there was something off putting. It glowed with no song. Why would it do that?

 

Another light slowly grew as she walked through the hall, hugging the precious stone to her chest. Moonlight filtered in through the open doorway. She could see the company’s gear piled up near the hidden stairs. Llorabell sighed with relief. Oin would have something she’d be able to use.

 

The ground shook underneath her. Llorabell stumbled out of the doorway as a great cracking sound filled the air. Another crack rang out, this time with a roar. The sounds were coming from below her. The hobbit stumbled over to the edge of the hidden balcony in time to see the great sealed doors of Erebor exploud outward.

 

Smaug stomped out with a raging scream, “Revenge! Revenge! I’ll show you revenge dwarf! The men will burn! The elves will burn! And then you will burn!”

 

“No.” Gasped Llorabell. “Stop. Stop!” The hobbit dropped to her knees as Smaug slithered out and spread its wings. “Mâin! Mâin!”

 

**“ _Mâin_!”**

 

Llorabell jerked in surprise as the jewel in her hand screamed stop in the earthen tongue. Agony rang from its voice. It vibrated through Llorabell. Her throbbing head felt like it was splitting in two. Pain and nausea raged through her as the jewel screamed.

 

**“ _Mâin_!”**

 

Stone around her roared in response. Llorabell could make out one word through her throbbing head, Iinda. Heart.

 

The mountain shook. The dragon turned towards her. Llorabell shuddered as she realized she was screaming alongside the jewel. Her voice wasn’t her own. **“ _Mâin_!”**

 

The dragon snarled something at her but she could only hear the jewels screams and the stones’ roar. It’s snarl twisted to surprise as a stone axe swung down at him. One of the stone statues had moved.  Smaug twisted sharply away from the statue.

 

Smaug doubled back again as he realized his back was to the other statue. He needn't had bothered as that one didn’t move but it did give the moving statue a chance to stretch out and grab its axe. Statue and dragon clashed.

 

Llorabell shuddered at the sounds ringing around her and through her. Her mind barely registering that the statue’s lower half didn’t move. She was going to faint. Her hands spasmed around the stone. She was going to be sick. yet she continued to scream along side the Arkenstone.

 

Smaug realized the restrictions of the stone with a sudden laugh. The dragon took sharply to the air. It’s mouth glowed with building heat. He was going to spew fire down onto the statue. She was going to burn with it.

 

Llorabell tried to rise but she couldn’t get her feet to move. She really was going to die. The hobbit lass croaked out even as flashes of the Shire, of her family, the adventure, each company member, of Fili filled her thoughts. **“ _Mâin_.”**

 

The stone axe of the other statue slammed into Smaug’s chest. The dragon dropped and the axe shattered onto the ground. After a moment, Smaug pushed himself up and out of the pile of rubble with a raging scream.

 

Llorabell glanced over at the statue the axe had come from. The once immovable statue had only moved its axe up in a swing to toss its blade at the flying serpent. The rest of the statue continued to stay perfectly still. Its axe arm was now stuck in the motion of an upward swing.

 

The more mobile dwarven statue slowly rose and took an awkward step forward, leaving a whole section of its lower leg behind. The statue jerked as its other leg didn’t budge. Smaug lunged forward and the two clashed again.

 

Axe and winged claws fought for dominance. The dragon’s powerful back legs flexed. The dragon lifted the statue up and back. The statue slammed into the wall. It’s axe sliced into the mountain side.

 

Llorabell’s sight became foggy as the dwarven statue yanked its axe free. The axe blade glowed oddly in the moonlight as if it was suddenly embedded with thousands of glowing Arkenstones. The blade went at the dragon at an odd angle. It’s blade would not slice into the dragon. The end of it would awkwardly hit first, like a pick axe.

 

Smaug screamed for a short, harsh moment. Blood gushed out of its chest, where the sharp point of the blade had wedge in. What should have been a badly angled slice from the statue became Smaug’s doom.

 

The world became silent. The Arkenstone slide out of Llorabell’s hands and rolled across the balcony. Llorabell felt the fog fade from her mind and a crisp, sharp ache was left behind.

 

Then the dragon’s corpse slide to the ground, its legs giving out. The dwarven statue crumbled as the scaled tail slammed against the awkwardly short, incomplete leg and any hope of climbing down from the hidden door went with it.  

 

Llorabell sat trembling as she stared blankly ahead. She had just seen that. That had really happened.

 

She dragged her eyes from the destruction before her, turning to the glowing stone a few feet away. The Arkenstone winked at her. Llorabell suddenly jumped to her feet and fled to the gear, pulled her pack out, and ripped out one of her spare shirts - one that had once been Dwalin’s or Gloin’s or Nori’s. She tossed the shirt over the arkenstone and quickly wrapped it up. Then she stuffed the stone into her pack.

  
There was something wrong with that stone. She needed to show it to Gandalf. He’d know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbittish:  
> Iinda - heart (there are multiple words that use a variation of heart combined with another word. This word would be edited, losing some letters etc when combined with other - hopefully that makes sense.)  
> mâin - stop
> 
> So, I hope that end wasn't too out of left field... Anyway, I’m not going to be publishing anything during the rest of November. I’m going to be working on a number of small original works during NaNo. If I get those completed before NaNo is over with I’ll then work on fan fiction. 
> 
> I do have a bit of a random question for you all, though. I’m considering starting a blog - won’t be till the new year probably. Said blog would be about hunting for what makes great stories great or at least that’s my idea at the moment. What do you think. Would you find that interesting? I know some of you read blogs. :)
> 
> And the blog would give you all a easy way to communicate with me outside of Ao3 story comments.


	11. A Lull in the Lonely Mountain

Chapter Eleven: A Lull in the Lonely Mountain

 

Pain seared through her. Her head hurt. Throbbing vibrated from her ankle, in tune to her heart beat. Llorabell’s feet throbbed also but to a different tune. She had little doubt that she was covered in bruises.

 

Even knowing all that, the hobbit couldn’t convince herself to move. The blond lass leaned back against her pack and stared across at the scattered gear. She had unthinkingly tossed Oin’s pack as far from her as possible. The Arkenstone was secured till she could speak with Gandalf about it but the reason for her presence on the (no longer) hidden balcony was sitting across from her. She should get up and go to it.

 

She didn’t. She’d done enough for the day. She was done. Someone else could get her the burn cream and make her tea.

 

In that moment the hobbit missed her home more than she had ever thought possible. Llorabell missed her armchair. She missed her books. She missed her herb garden. The hobbit missed her feather bed.

 

All Llorabell wanted to do was sleep. But the pain was keeping her awake.

 

Her head started to pound more. The pounding seemed to echo out and grow louder. Llorabell pressed a hand to her head. That felt good. Her hand was cold. Her head was hot. The hobbit lifted her other hand to her head. The cold felt so good.

 

The pounding stopped and then changed. It almost sounded like khuzdul. A violent knock rang out. Then the pounding ended.

 

“Llorabell?”

 

Llorabell blinked, vaguely aware that she had closed her eyes at some point, and peaked through her cold fingers. Fili knelt before her, covered in dirt and breathing harshly. She could smell smoke.

 

Memory sprang forth of the dragon chasing Fili and the others from the treasury. Anger flashed through her. “What were you thinking!?” She cried out at her dwarf. Her hands flew out without thought, slapping against his chest. “You could have died! You idiot, stupid, foolish Walnut-Headed dwarf!” Tears welled up unbidden. “Idiot. Idiot! Idiot!”

 

A startled looked crossed his face before he caught a hand, then worry took over. “You’re frozen.” He hissed out, catching her other hand. The dwarf pulled and Llorabell suddenly found herself in his lap, his arms rubbing down her sides in an effort to warm her up.

 

She sniffed, the anger she had felt was gone as quickly as it had come. “I don’t feel good.” She mumbled into his smoke smelling chest.

 

Fili shifted under her and then stood up, keeping her in his arms. The pounding in her head returned, again echoing out and slowly growing louder.

 

“By Mahal.” Breathed Fili. Llorabell glanced up at him and then twisted around in his arms to see what he was staring at. Smaug lay dead amongst the shattered remains of one of the stone statues.

 

“You didn’t see what happened?” She asked between the pounding. The stars and moon gleamed too brightly down at them. The light blurred outward, almost blinding. Llorabell turned back against Fili.

 

“No. We dared not follow it out and we couldn’t see much anyway; the gate kept crumbling after Smaug rammed through it. ” Said Fili. “Did you do that?”

 

Llorabell pressed her face into Fili’s chest. The screaming of the Arkenstone echoed through her mind. The roar of stone and the clash between giants whispering from behind her headache. “No.” She whispered. “Not really.”

 

Fili shifted. “Are you certain?”

 

Anger flashed through her again. She pushed away from him but Fili tightened his grip to keep from dropping her. She resorted to pounding against his chest with her fists. “Let go! Let go!”

 

Tears welled up as her violent movements made her aches and pains sharpen. Llorabell continued to pound against his chest anyway. After another moment the anger fled her. “I don’t know!” She slumped back into his chest as she whimpered out. “Does it matter?”

 

The dwarf prince shifted his grip on her and turned away from the view. “No, it doesn’t have to.”

 

Fili walked back to the doorway and stomped inside. As he moved new, softer pounding echoed through her head. Kili appeared from down the hall a second later and the hobbit realized as the two dwarves stilled that the various pounding she was hearing wasn’t from her head. It was the echoes of the dwarves boots as they moved through the hall.

 

Her head hurt so much she couldn’t tell the difference. Noise seemed to vibrate and echo. It was louder than it should be.

 

“Where’s Oin?”Asked Fili as he stomped further into the hall. Her head ached with each pounding step.

 

Llorabell tried to ignore it as she turned her head to look around. Only Kili stood before them. Where were the others?

 

She watched as Kili twisted around and look behind himself, “He was just behind me!” Kili looked back at them, “I swear, he was just behind me!”

 

Fili’s chest rumbled against her ear as he sighed and asked, “Can you grab his pack and some blankets? She’s freezing.” Kili nodded and sprang around them.

 

A moment later Kili was back with Fili’s and his blankets, and Oin’s pack on his back. “We should move further in so there isn’t so much draft.” The dark haired prince turn contemplative, “Or we could go to the treasury, even. It’s warm there and Smaug’s gone. He’d have to do a bit of digging to get through the pile of rock at the entrance too. So we’ll have plenty of warning.”

 

“The treasury then.” Fili said as he started stomping down the hall. “And he’s dead.”

 

“What?” Cried Kili, his head snapping over to stare at them.

 

Llorabell stiffened. She didn’t want to explain what happened. She didn’t really understand it.

 

Fili continued stomping down the hall as he simply stated, “Just...Just look out towards Lake-town when you go back for more blankets.”

 

Kili nodded sharply, his eyes flickering down at her. Then the young dwarf sprang down the hall towards the treasury. A few moments later, he reappeared free of gear and ran past them.

 

Fili turned around and shouted, “Grab Bombur’s pack! We should get some food for everyone!”

 

“Right!” Kili shouted, waving his hand over his head without turned back to them.

 

It wasn’t long before they reached the entrance. Kili had laid out the blankets just before the doorway to the golden treasury. He had thoughtfully situated it in the shadows, away from the strange light glimmering out from the treasure.

 

Fili set her down onto his blankets and then piled Kili’s on top of her. His hand slid up to cup her cheek and blue eyes wandered over her face. “I know you’re not feeling well but can you tell me details?”

 

Llorabell stared into his eyes for a moment. The sudden realization of how close she had come to losing all of them, him, hit her. Tears welled up. The hobbit lass fought the bubbling histratics as she choked out, “My head hurts..an..and.” She hiccupped as she tried to ignore her sudden desire to sob. Her bottom lip trembled, “My feet...a-and e-every...where…” Tears leaked out.

 

Her fellow blond frowned worriedly at her, looking unsure as he slowly reached out with his free hand. “Let me check your head first.”

 

The instant his hand hesitantly brushed her brow she tackled him. Fili fell backwards. Her arms flung up around his neck and she pressed against him. A sob ripped from her chest. Tears spilled out and snot soon followed.

 

Llorabell sobbed helplessly against his chest. She had almost lost them. She had almost lost him. She had almost died. She felt terrible. This day was just horrid.

 

Llorabell had the strange feeling she had fallen asleep. Last thing she remembered was sobbing against Fili. She couldn’t remember stopping. Yet Llorabell was definitely not sobbing anymore.

 

Soothing circles were being rubbed into her back.

 

She was laying against a chest. She could feel it rise and fall from each breath. She could hear the beating heart her ear rested against. Heat radiated off the dwarf she was slumped against. The chest her head rested against rumbled as he spoke.

 

Llorabell didn’t move. She was past caring about property. Anyway, she knew whose embrace she was in and it was perfectly proper - as long as no one back home found out that he hadn’t chosen to stay with her.

 

She slowly grew aware of more, even though all she wanted to do was fall back asleep. She was covered in a blanket. Her eyes felt uncomfortable, caked with dried tears. Her nose was raw. Her head still hurt.

 

A voice filtered through her stubborn, exhausted mind. “-h’omrid.”

 

“I doubt she wants such a title, Kili.” Rumbled into her ear. The last clouds of sleep slipped away. Llorabell couldn’t help but perk up at that. What title?

 

“Do you think she’ll actually have a choice in the end? Uncle didn’t choose his title.”

 

The chest she was resting against shifted up and down. She wrinkled her nose at the movement. Fili should know better than to move when he was being used as a pillow. She thoughtlessly stabbed a finger into his side to make him stop.

 

The chest jerked slightly in response before stilling. “Bilbo?” Rumbled Fili, his voice soft. “You awake?”

 

Llorabell sighed and nuzzled into his chest. She didn’t see any need to actually respond as her goal had been achieved. Fili wasn’t moving around anymore.

 

“Fee?” Kili spoke up slowly. “I think she’s still sleeping.”

 

“She poked me!” Whined Fili.

 

Silence stretched for a moment between the two brothers. Llorabell almost fell back asleep. Then there was scrapping as Kili moved. “I’ll try and get Oin again.”

 

“Maybe you should just take his pack to him and ask him what does what.” Fili seemed to hesitated for a second, “It might be faster.”

 

“Don’t see why he can’t take a second to check on our burglar. It’s not like the gold is going anywhere.”

 

“Well he did bandage her feet and checked her head.” Fili countered slowly.

 

Llorabell heard Kili mumble something before leaving. Then the room became quiet again.

 

A hand slid through her hair. “You are awake, aren’t you?”

 

After a moment, she turned her head and cracked open her eyes. A hum escaped her lips. Fili’s hand fell from her hair to rest at her hip. His thumb started to rub soft circles into her side.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Llorabell slowly pushed herself up away from his chest. “Yes.” She said, her voice ruff. The hobbit lass sniffed and looked up at Fili. They were very close.

 

The determined look in his eyes softened and the dwarf sighed. “We’ll talk later. You need to rest.”

 

She frowned at that and shook her head. “No.”

 

His raised a brow at her and countered, “You look terrible. I think you have a fever.” He sighed again. “I want to talk to you about all this but you need rest so you can talk about this with a clear head.”

 

Llorabell shook her head again. “No.” She sniffed out. Her eyes fell to Fili’s facial hair as she continued, her voice cracking as she spoke each word. “Your mustache is ridiculous. You are hairy all over. There is too much muscle to be proper. You have far too many weapons on your person to be respectable.” She frowned and tears welled up. “But you’re who I thought about when I thought I was going to die.”

 

Llorabell sniffed again. “I think I want you as my bonded. You asked but I cannot tell you for certain. We didn’t court properly or anything and all I know about you is all ridiculousness and impropriety but I can’t think of anyone else I would choose. I tried to think of someone. I did.”

 

She dropped her head onto Fili’s chest. Her voice was muffled as she finished, “I wish we had gotten to know each other proper before we bonded. That way we would have know if we want this. That way you’d have been able to tell me about Ones before it was too late….I mean for me. You can still go find your One. I don’t mind. I can be a spinster knowing you’re with the person that makes you happiest.”

 

Fili’s arms wrapped around her and moved her till she was resting between his legs. His head settled on the top of hers. “If I choose you I might ruin Kili’s chance for his One. One of us should have proper children for the line. And sometimes I think his One isn’t a dwarf. He claims he doesn’t mind marrying a dwarf just for children but he’s my little brother. I’m supposed take up that responsibility.”

 

His arms tightened. “We’re going to have this conversation when you’re feeling better. Until then stop thinking I haven’t chosen you. I..I’m still trying to figure it out.”

 

His voice became a whisper and Llorabell barely heard him. She didn’t think she was supposed to hear him. “There has to be a way where it works out for all of us.”

 

Silence stretched out between them. The sound of dwarf boots pounding against stone filtered up through the treasury doorway. Fili sat up, remarking as he did so. “You’re the ridiculous one, by the way.” Humor colored his words, “My mustache is perfectly respectable.”

 

Llorabell smiled at that. “Not to hobbits.”

 

“Well you’re the unrespectable bunch not growing proper beards!” Fili countered. They both grinned helplessly at each other.

 

“Lass’s awake, is she?” Oin called out.

 

“Yes.” Fili said. He helpfully poked her side to get her to move. Llorabell just knew it was in retaliation from earlier. She groaned as she sat up from his embrace.

 

The hobbit lass blinked rapidly at the old healer. The golden light from the treasury reflected out around the dwarf with a halo effect. Her head throbbed at the sharp contrast from the shadowy corner she sat in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to see Oin properly instead of just a dark outline of the dwarf.

 

Oin was the ridiculous one. A gold tiara sat askewed on his head. Multiple necklaces of insane complexity hung around his neck. Ear cuffs of various, gaudy combinations clung to his ears. Every finger had a ring. Each arm had multiple bracelets. One had a few armlets. He had five different, overly decorated, belts on. A new hearing horn hung from one of the belts. It was gold and covered in hordes of jewels. It didn’t look practical at all.

 

“What’s going on?” She asked, hands rising to rub at her eyes. She had to be seeing things. Her eyes ached in time with her head.

 

Oin caught her hands. “None of that lassie.” The healer knelt down and pulled his pack to his side. Digging through it, he continued, “Now, ya got a nasty bump on yer head and yer feet are a mess.” He paused at that and leveled her a hard look, picking up his hearing horn and directing it at her. “There’s a reason boots should be worn. What made ya take them off?”

 

Llorabell squirmed under his sharp eyes. “Well I needed to get to you all and I...uhmm... might not of noticed how hot the floor was.” She shrugged. “I had to take them off after that, least they hurt my feet more from melting.”

 

The healer squinted his eyes at her at that. “Melting?” Oin stared at her for a second longer before shaking his head.

 

He smacked Fili. “Enough with playing pillow. Ya’ll help with her feet. Here’s the burn cream. She’s do for more on both.” The healer shoved some jar into Fili’s hands. Then Oin shook his head and turned back to his pack muttering loudly as he went, “Melting..confounded Hobbits, how do they make their shoes? Melting of all things. Nothing a good dwarven cobbler wouldn’t know how to fix.”

 

Fili pulled himself out from behind her and knelt in front. His shirt was still stained with her tears and snot. Llorabell avoided his eyes as he carefully lifted one of her feet. It was wrapped in bandages. The blond dwarf slowly undid the dressing.

 

“Well lass, ya ran over dragon fire heated flooring and melted yer shoes. What else did ya do?” Demanded Oin.

 

Llorabell glanced up at the healer before dropping her gaze to her lap in embarrassment. “Umm...I might have fallen from the pillar Smaug put me on and bumped my head...and my ankle.” She trudged on even as Fili still in his movements for a moment to stare at her and Oin started muttering to himself again. “And then I might have rolled down a pile of treasure….running into hard things and nearly getting buried.”

 

Fili made a strangled sound. She glanced up through her lashes and met blue eyes. She dropped her sight again at the pained, exasperation radiating from Fili.

 

“Mahal, lass pull up yer shirt. Lets see the damage.” Oin ordered. He continued to mutter in his own annoyance at her. “Just after I finished healing her and she goes and does this. If it wasn’t for her killing Smaug, I’d get that leash Dwalin was bemoaning for and tie her up to Fili and toss the two into a locked room so neither can go do anything stupid till Spring.”

 

“Excuse m-me!” Cried Llorabell. Her face heated up. She just knew she looked like a tomato. Fili made a strangled noise at Oin’s words but she forcefully didn’t pay him any mind. “I can’t ju-just pull my shirt up. It’s not proper! Not proper at all.”

 

“Nonsense, lass. I’ve seen most of ya in lake-town and he’s seen all of ya earlier than that. Now pull it up and lets be done with this.” Grouched out Oin. The hobbit squeaked as Oin reached out and yanked all her layers of shirts up. She caught the last shirt before it made its way over her breasts. “Black and blue all over.” Grumbled the dwarf before he shifted around for a moment.

 

Llorabell couldn’t help it as she glanced through her lashes over at Fili. He was staring.

 

“Lad, her feet. Now.” Order Oin. Fili jumped and quickly turned down to the foot he was holding. His blush seemed to only darken as one hand carefully massaged some burn cream into her sole. The biting cold of more cream joined the feeling as Oin slathered bruise cream over her back, sides, and stomach.

 

Oin shifted to catch her attention. “Now let go. Need to see if the rest of ya is as black and blue.”

 

The hobbit lass blushed brighter as she let go and lifted her arms as high as she could to help him pulled the layers of cloth and leather off her. One arm could go higher than the other but neither could go as high as they should have. She quickly covered her chest. Her arms were just as black and blue as the rest of her.

 

Oin tisked softly as he carefully took one and then the other. “Nothing’s broken at least.” He grumbled before holding out the jar. “Yer sides need some.” Oin stated, waving at one side right under the armpit and beside a breast.

 

Llorabell quickly slithered some of the cream on either side. Then, after taking a quick look at her chest to make sure there were no other bruises, she pulled one of her tunics back on.

 

Fili had kept his head down during the entire event, his hands carefully messaging the burn cream into her foot. He had been messaging the same foot the entire time.

 

Oin smacked Fili on the shoulder, “The other foot now. Ya can give her a foot message later, once ya’ve asked permission.”

 

Llorabell smiled at the squeak that escaped the dwarf prince. He nearly dropped her foot in his haste to move onto the other foot.

 

The older dwarf turned back to her with a frown. “How’s yer head?”

 

“Hurts.”

 

He nodded, “Where?”

 

The hobbit shrugged and waved her hands around her head. “Throbs outward...Sort of from the center, I guess.”

 

Oin stroked his beard thoughtfully before asking, “How’s the light look to ya?”

 

“Too bright.”

 

“Looks like the light goes further than it really does, right? Has a halo around it?”

 

Llorabell nodded.

 

“Not as bad as earlier though?”

 

She nodded again.

 

“Good. Let me scrounge up some kindle and I’ll make ya some tea for the head and other aches and pains.” Oin paused for a moment and glanced at Fili before turning back to her, “Once the lad is done with yer feet we’ll take a look at yer lower half for bruises.”

 

“What?” Squeaked Llorabell.

 

Oin rolled his eyes at her and stood up stretching. “Got to check on yer hips and legs.” He stomped away, towards the treasury. “Call me when yer done with her feet, lad.”

 

“O’course.” Fili agreed as he finished unwrapping her other foot.

 

“Don’t forget the bruise cream for her ankle.” The healer added before vanishing through the doorway.

 

They sat quietly together for a few minutes. Llorabell watched as Fili messaged her foot. The treasury light reflected off her anklet. Fili’s fingers brushed up to the charms a few times.

 

“Do these mean anything?” Fili asked after staring down at the charms for a few minutes.

 

The hobbit lass nodded and then expanded when Fili didn’t noticed, his head still firmly tilted down. “Yes. Every hobbit has something like it. Us women get charms throughout our childhood. When we come of age we get to choose what to put the charms on. I chose the anklet but I could have gotten it made as a necklace or a bracelet instead.”

 

Fili rubbed a thumb over one of the charms. “So, do you get one for each birthday?”

 

Llorabell shook her head. “No. It’s traditional to have each parent make or commision a charm for the baby before the birth. Even the boys have those two charms. Those charms are supposed to represent the quality our parents hope we emulate the most. What the charms are made out of is decided by the parents. It doesn’t usually matter though mine all being gold indicates my families wealth.”

 

The hobbit paused for a second before shrugging, “They could have as easily chosen silver, copper, or even wood for the charms. They didn’t have to choose gold because of the Baggins wealth. I never asked why they decided too... After that, we girls get a charm representing our names on our naming day. Then we get another set of charms from our parents on our fifth and tenth birthdays. Various other events lead to more charms. Finally, on our coming of age we get the chain with all the charms locked onto it.”

 

The dwarf slowly twisted the ankle around and looked in interesting at each charm. Some of the designs in the charms appeared similar to the designs Llorabell had stitched onto her wanders cloak. When he returned to the first charm, Fili frowned. “Where’s the latch?”

 

“The lock is hidden in the charm we get on our coming of age. It makes a perfect, unbreakable circle.” Llorabell explained. “We never take them off if we can help it. It’s not proper to walk around without them.We only take it off when we’re adding new charms or our bonding chain to it.”

 

Fili looked up at her, “Bonding chain?”

 

The hobbit lass shifted in discomfort. She shrugged slightly too casually, “When we bond our husband is supposed to connect and warp a second chain around our first to represent the bond and to give room for charms he might give his wife. The one circle we get at our coming of age becomes two at our bonding as we go from being one to being two for the rest of our lives.”

 

The pair stared at each other for a few minutes. The staring contest was broken by the sudden pounding of multiple feet. Fili snapped his head down to the foot he still held and quickly wrapped a clean bandage around it before picking up her first foot again. “Could you pass me the bruise cream?”

 

Llorabell did as the rest of the company came stomping in. Every last one of them  was bedecked in gold, silver, and jewels. Even Kili had a few jewels covering himself.

 

She watched as the grinning troup turned bright red. Most quickly turned away from her. A few smacked Oin in outrage. Balin loudly scowled the healer, “You left Fili to care for her feet! Absolutely improper! You should have been doing that. You know better.”

 

Oin snorted and said back with a toothy grin, “Oh and have my helper rub the bruise cream all over her back and chest then?”

 

Ori squeaked loudly. Fili flushed red and quickly wrapped her foot in bandages before setting it down. Kili helpfully tossed a blanket over her, though it really only covered her feet.

 

Thorin sighed behind everyone else. “To the gear.” He ordered. “The sun will soon rise and we must close the hidden door before it does.”

 

The company followed orders, heading down the hall with good humor. Thorin gave Fili a hand up and pushed his heir towards the rest. “Come on. You can grab our Lady Burglar’s pack.”

 

The king flashed a stern look her way, “You’re to rest.” A grin cracked across his face, ruining his stern orders, and the dwarf paused.

 

Llorabell stared at the relaxed dwarf. She had never seen him so comfortable before. His shoulder were slumped in relief. His eyes seemed to glow with joy.

 

“Thank you.” Thorin rumbled out, his grin stretching into a brilliant smile. He looked like Kili. That smile was Fili’s. Then the dwarf king turn and followed the company down the hall.

 

The hobbit lass leaned back against the wall with a soft smile. Smaug was dead. Erebor was theirs again. The dwarves had a home once more.

 

Her smile faded. There was no reason to stay. She had burglared the Arkenstone as contracted. Llorabell should hand it over to Thorin and leave. It would be for the best.

 

Except there was something very wrong with that stone. She needed to show it to Gandalf to make sure it was safe to hand over to her- the dwarves.

 

Llorabell nodded to herself. She would wait to speak with Gandalf and once he confirmed that it was just her imagination, she would head home. Llorabell firmly squashed the stray thoughts about Fili.

 

She was staying for the stone, not to see if her bonded decided he wanted to stay with her. He was a prince of the richest kingdom of the East. There was no reason he couldn’t find his One. There was no reason he could possibly want her.

 

And, if she was honest with herself, Llorabell didn’t want to be a queen. She was just a hobbit. She wasn’t queen material. Even if it took a century for Fili to become king (and it should because Thorin deserved to have his kingdom), she would not be a good queen.

 

Llorabell frowned. She would be on her death bed, too old to help rule, anyway. That was another reason Fili shouldn’t want her. He had centuries ahead of him. She only had decades.

 

Her mind betrayed her as some of the stories she grew up hearing jumped to the forefront of her thoughts. If the stories were true, she would live as long as Fili.

 

The hobbit lass felt like smacking herself. She was fighting herself. Half of her was trying to be reasonable. This couldn’t end well between Fili and Her. Yet the other half of her was quite certain it could.

 

“Mahal Lass!” Llorabell snapped her head up. Bofur was near skipping down the hall with his pack on his back. “Me lady.” He swung an exaggerated bow. Still bowing, his looked up at her with a wide grin, “Ya have ta tell us how ya killed the beast!”

 

The rest of the company came swarming in with grins and cheerful cries of excitement at her. Llorabell shook her head at them. They all wanted to hear how she had done it but she wasn’t going to tell. Not yet. Possibly never.

 

Oin interrupted their eager demands with his own about finishing caring for her injuries. It didn’t take long before the company split up. Some returned to the treasury. Others headed out to see if the kitchens and stores were useable at all. Soon only Oin and Llorabell were left.

 

It was an embarrassing few minutes as the healer forced her out of her trousers and lathered up the rest of her bruises but it was soon completed. Oin clasped her on a shoulder. “Lets hope the lads found something to heat tea up so we can dull that headache. Rest till then.”

 

Llorabell nodded and curled up into Fili and Kili’s blankets.

 

She woke up to the cheerful shout of “Bohr hai-kshal!”. The hobbit peaked out of her blankets. Most of the company were sitting around the makeshift camp. A few came running in from the treasury. Bofur and Bombur were cheerfully carrying large glass bottles. The hatted dwarf was waving his bottles around with a wide grin.

 

All the dwarves broke out into giant grins of their own. Bofur came to a stop in the middle of the camp and Thorin rose to meet him. The king took one of the bottles and looked at it. From her vantage point, the bottle looked empty.

 

Thorin suddenly turned around towards her and lift the bottle up over his head in a salute. He shouted, “Marug uslukh’omrid!”

 

The company roared out with great cheer. Llorabell sat up and curled her legs under her as the dwarves sprang into action. Some sprinted back into the treasury. Others quickly cleared the camp up.

 

Thorin took some metal tool from Gloin and popped the bottle open. The king called out, waving a hand. “Sashfatumunmîn md-shelâk! Uslukh’omrid binshelak!”

 

“Haar!” Shouted Dwalin, stomping out from the treasury and holding up a metal cup. More were stacked in his arm. Another cheer rang out.

 

Thorin took up the presented cup and poured a clear liquid into it. It could only be water. The company fell silent. Thorin handed the bottle over to one of the dwarves and walked the few paces over to her. He squatted down beside her and offer the cup.

 

Llorabell hesitantly took the cup but the king didn’t let it go. He gave her another smile and the hobbit couldn’t help but feel a little like she was still dreaming. Thorin Oakenshield should not smile so much, even if it did him a world of good. He should go back to being gruff and grumpy all the time. The dwarf king spoke to her, breaking Llorabell of her thoughts. “It is an honor to receive the first glass.”

 

Llorabell nodded. “I am honored.”

 

A lopsided grin appeared. “Of course, you are Uslukh’omrid buhâ'oDurinur.” Thorin let go of the cup and rose. Balin handed Thorin the next cup and soon all the company had one. Starting with Fili and ending with Bombur, each glass was filled by Thorin. He filled his own glass last.

 

Llorabell looked around at them all. None were taking a drink yet. All were shifting to positions around her. Finally, after the king had finished serving his men. He turned and lifted his cup to her. “Uslukh’omrid buhâ'oDurinur! Buhâ'oErebor!”

 

All the dwarves roared out, repeating Thorin’s words. Then, as one, they all tilted their heads back and knocked back the entire glass. The hobbit lass quickly took a sip, not wanting to accidently slight them by not doing so when she was supposed to.

 

She choked and started gagging. Her throat burned. Tears slid out.

 

The drink was not water.

 

Thorin chuckled at her reaction even as Ori, Kili, and a few others joined in coughing helplessly. Unlike her, they all lifted their cups up when the call for more came a second after. Again none drank until they all had them filled and Thorin lifted his cup in toast, this time to Fili.

 

This continued until each company member was toasted by their king. Llorabell took a careful sip for each toast but couldn’t guess at what Thorin was saying beyond each dwarf’s name. Once Bombur’s toast was completed, Fili stepped forward and took up the bottle of liquor.

 

The prince filled each person cup, including hers, and then lifted his up in a toast to Thorin. Llorabell smiled as this time each dwarf step forward to add to the toast. Thorin looked uncomfortable as this continued but didn’t do anything to stop it.

 

She didn’t know what was being said but Llorabell wanted to contribute in some way. The hobbit tugged on Dwalin’s trousers at the sudden thought. She would not say anything as she was sure speaking common would ruin the moment and the importance of it all but she would stand.

 

Dwalin frowned down at her as Bifur added to the toast but smiled when she lifted her hand in askance. The warrior pulled her up to her feet. The toast paused as she stood but continued when she simply smiled at them all.

 

Llorabell met Thorin’s eyes as Bombur finished the toast and she lifted her glass with the rest, tilted her head back, and gulped the burning liquid down in one go. Dwalin caught her before she could fall over as she coughed helplessly. Looking up through her tears, the entire company were grinning at her.

 

Oin broke the moment by taking her cup away. “Now that’s enough for her, lads. Anymore and she’ll double her headache, not dull it!” The healer took her arm and guided her back down to her pile of blankets. “She gets water or tea, if we can find something to heat the water with. Nothing else.”

 

“Just means we’ll have to have another celebration when our Dragonslayer has fully recovered.” Laughed Gloin.

 

“Dragonslayer?” Asked Llorabell, her head snapping up at the dwarrow as the group cheered out agreements.

 

Thorin smirked at her as he agreed, “Aye, our Lady Dragonslayer needs to be able to fully join the merriment next time.”

 

Llorabell scowled up at them. “Now wait one second here! I never agreed to this-this title!”

 

The dwarves ignored her as they popped open more bottles. Llorabell soon gave up, remembering the earlier conversation she had overheard between Fili and Kili. It was very likely that, since she had slept through any discussions involving this title, she had no say in it.

 

As the celebration carried out Llorabell did learn two important facts from a very inebriated Ori. Her title directly translated to Dragondeath and Thorin had named her an official friend of the line of Durin and of Erebor. With that officially announced she was allowed to hear all the Khuzdul they wanted to say around her. She still didn’t get to learn the language, though.

 

The next morning she awoke expecting to be surrounded by snoring, hungover dwarves. Yet none were there. She could hear shouts and noise in the treasury. Llorabell relax into a sitting position and looked around. Someone would come by later to check on her, to grab food, or even to relax. They couldn’t stay in there forever.

 

Llorabell found the cup Thorin had given her sitting at her side. The interior looked like it was made from the same metal as blades were. The exterior glimmered with the brilliance of silver. White stones were embedded in the cup. An intricate geometric design covered the surface. It reminded her of the embroidery on Fili’s tunic.

 

And, by the Green lady, did that speak volumes of how much she stared at that dwarf. She needed to stop that. Llorabell sighed. At least she could claim she was staring at the embroidery because she did embroidery herself.

 

Llorabell looked around at that thought. She didn’t particularly wanted to walk on her still healing feet and no one was around to entertain her so she might as well get some of her wanders cape done. The hobbit found her pack resting against the wall at her side.

 

She dug through her pack until she found her kit and cape. When she pulled the cape out, the shirt wrapped around the Arkenstone came tumbling out. Llorabell stared at the glowing stone for a moment. She hesitated as she picked it up.

 

The stone was as silent as it had first been when she had found it.

 

“What are you?” Whispered the hobbit as she stared into the glowing depths. “What are you?” She repeated in the earthen tongue.

 

Llorabell jumped when the stone responded, repeating her word for word. **“ _What are you?_ ”**

 

“I’m a hobbit. What are you?” She asked in hobbitish again.

 

The stone seemed to winked at her as it responded, **” _I’m a hobbit. What are you?_ ”**

 

Llorabell frowned. “Stop repeating what I say!”

 

**“ _Stop repeating what I say._ ”**

 

The hobbit hissed in annoyance as she stuffed the stone back into her pack. What was wrong with that stone? She had never had anything, stone or plant mock her. The earth had always responded in greeting or rumbling words too quiet for her to understand. Llorabell paused at the thought.

 

She slowly looked up and tilted her head. None of the rock surrounding her had responded to the earthen tongue. The hobbit stared around at the walls. She couldn’t recall a time the earth hadn’t spoken to her or rumbled quietly in the background when she spoke the earthen tongue in its presences for the first time. Even when she hadn’t been speaking directly to it, the earth had always given some form of response.

 

“Fáilti.” Llorabell called out.

 

“What?” Llorabell snapped her head over to the doorway. Thorin came stomping in giving her an odd look. “Is something the matter?”

 

She looked over the hall as her heart stopped pounding at the start. None of the stone had responded to her greeting. “No.” Llorabell said to Thorin. She turned back to him. “Nothing’s wrong. What’s going on in there?”

 

Thorin shrugged slightly. “Everyone is simply enjoying the wealth of our people. A few have picked out some items they wish to claim as part of their share. Most are digging around to see what all is in there.”

 

The king stomped over to her and sat down. “Balin and Gloin are discussing organizing and evaluating everythings worth.” Thorin pulled something from his belt. “I found this for you. It is not part of your share. It is separate.” He held it out to her. “A gift, let it protect you from all the escapades you seem to fall into.”

 

Llorabell took the metal. It was cold. At first glance it looked like chainmail but holding it revealed that it was too light to be so. The metal didn’t feel like links, either.

 

The hobbit took a closer look. The metal was weaved. Bombur’s remark about his One being too interested in the metal she weaved popped into her head. “It’s weaved.” She breathed out in awe. Llorabell hadn’t realized that was possible. It hadn’t clicked when Bombur had said it but now, seeing weaved metal, she understood. How did one weave metal? She would have to ask Bombur sometime.

 

“Yes. It is a masterpiece, weaved by a master of old back when we had access to mithril from Moria.” Thorin explained.

 

She looked up at Thorin. “I cannot take this.”

 

Thorin shook his head. “Keep it in thanks for doing what no one else would.”

 

Llorabell frowned, “Killing the dragon?”

 

“For aiding us when you had no reason to.” Thorin countered. “For saving my people when you had lost so much because of us.”

 

“What?” Breathed Llorabell.

 

He sighed at her. “You have given up your bonded.”

 

Thorin stood up but paused as he turned back to the treasury. “We all have burdens to bear. We all give things up for people we care about.” Thorin turned back to her. “Yet, we are not your people nor were we friends. I considered you a burden. I believed you worthless to this endeavor. I thought you were a line stealer when Fili admitted to what had happened. I was wrong. You proved me wrong again and again.”

 

He stare at her for a moment. “I have never been more wrong in my life. Never.”

 

Thorin nodded at the bunched up metal cloth in her lap. “That gift is given in thanks for everything you have done...for opening your home to us, saving us from the trolls, bringing my nephew back to me, freeing us from the elven prison, not giving up on us when we so easily gave up on ourselves... being at my nephew’s side...for returning us our home.”

 

The king shifted and looked contemplatively down at her. “If...If Fili wishes you to be his wife and you wish him to your husband, I will not stand between you any longer. I will demand a proper courtship, though.”

 

His brow furrowed. “Though you are connected in a way I will never understand, it is no excuse to simply be married. You need to learn more about each other, be with each other when not traveling across the entire West, and not in danger of dying before deciding on something of such importance.”

 

He rubbed his forehead, a sigh escaping, ”We dwarves do not love lightly nor do we love often. Our hearts rarely find room to love more than one, be it our duty, our craft, or our One. Only our children hold true exemption to this fact.”

 

Thorin sent an intense glare over at the doorway “And know that in entering a courtship with Fili, whatever is between you and Nori cannot continue...or if Nori is being... well...Nori, you can inform me.” He looked back at her. “I will set him straight.”

 

Thorin stared at her a second longer, looking a bit flustered as if the amount of words he had spoken had taken more out of him then he liked to admit. Then he gave her a curt nod and stomped quickly back into the treasury (but not too quickly - he wasn’t fleeing).

 

Llorabell stared after him. She didn’t know what to think. She had no words to respond with.

 

The hobbit looked down at the metal cloth and slowly unwrapped it. It was a tunic of mithril. The color had gold inlayed in a circular, almost vine like design. It was beautiful in its own, cold sort of way. She would wear it with honor.

 

Her thoughts turned back to Thorin’s words. She mulled over everything. Llorabell slowly lifted a hand and touched her lips. What did he mean about Nori being Nori?

 

The hobbit shook her head. It didn’t matter. What mattered more was what she should do if Fili decided he wanted to court her. Thorin would tell him that he could, right?

 

Llorabell sighed as she felt her headache returning. She would figure this out later. Llorabell pulled the metal tunic on and then turned to her cape. There was so much embroidery she needed to do.

 

The day slipped away as she worked on her cape. Each company member stopped by for a bit. Oin came in to check on her. Fili stopped by for food and water, and made sure she had some in hand. Kili came and lazed around with her for a time.

  
The next day the company headed out to the gate. they all wanted to see the dead dragon close up. Llorabell overheard the older dwarves muttering about checking the defense. She was the only one left behind but the company made certain she had food and water in hand. They wouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was trying to get everything that happens between Smaug dying and the battle written out for this chapter but I came to realize, as I hit 12k words, that I had to break this into two or more chapters. So here is the first chapter of at least two before the battle..
> 
> It's very much a lull in things so hopefully its still interesting. I did finally, FINALY, get Thorin's epic speech in. That speech, though altered here for obvious reasons, always felt like a turning point in his relationship with Bilbo. So it needed to happen still.
> 
> I also finally got to explain the charms every proper hobbit lass wears. :D
> 
> And Llorabell and Fili finally talked...a little.
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Bohr hai-kshal! = We have vodka! -- kshal is the combination of the word for "containing root" and "containing water" so technically it says We have rootwater. Or you could take it as We have potatowater. I figured dwarves would be more inclined in making alcohol from plants they like and might have some skill at growing, like potatoes.
> 
> Marug uslukh’omrid! = celebration of dragondeath
> 
> Sashfatumunmîn md-shelâk! Uslukh’omrid binshelak! = Bring the cups! Dragondeath cannot be without one!
> 
> Haar! = Here!
> 
> Uslukh’omrid buhâ'oDurinur = Dragondeath friend of line of Durin
> 
> Uslukh’omrid buhâ'oDurinur! Buhâ'oErebor! = Dragondeath friend of line of Durin! friend of Erebor!
> 
> h’omrid = the end part of Llorabell's title, Dragondeath.
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> Fáilti = Hail


	12. Dragon's Gold

Chapter Twelve: Dragon's Gold

 

The loud pounding of dwarven feet awoke her. Llorabell had been taking a nap; the company had been gone for so long. Dwarves came streaming in with grins and laughs.

 

“What a sight Bilbo!” Shouted Kili. His eyes shone with excitement. The young dwarf lifted up something. “Look at this! Look at it!”

 

Llorabell sat up in bemusement as Gloin shout in the back, “Oi! Why’d ya get to be the one to show it off?”

 

Kili turned back and countered with a grin, “I have the piece we picked up for her.”

 

Nori appeared at the prince’s side and took the piece. The thief dodged Kili, Bofur, and Fili as they tried to take the object back. The star-haired dwarf reached Llorabell but Dori caught him as he did and lifted him away from her. The white haired dwarf yanked the object out of Nori’s grasp and tossed it to Balin.

 

“We’ve talked about this Nori.” Grouched Dori - Nori started talking back even as Dori continued speaking. “Ya mean ya talked at me about this.” - “You’re not to go anywhere near Bilbo.”

 

Balin settled down at her side with an amused air about himself. He held out the object to her as the company dissolved into an argument. Dwalin was holding both Fili and Kili back by the collars as things looked close to coming to blows. Llorabell decided to ignore it like the older dwarf was. It was easy to do as the argument had quickly dissolved into khuzdul. “We’ve all gotten a piece. It was agreed this would be yours.”

 

Llorabell took the object and stared at it. It was a chunk of stone that seemed roughly shaped as a spear. It was twice the length of her hand but thin enough for her to hold it within one. All but two sides and the bottom of it was encased by a translucent rock. The sides that were not covered in the whitish rock had clearly been broken off from something. The translucent rock rose a few inches above the interior rock to form a pointed edge.

 

“It’s part of the rock that we found embedded into the dragon.” Balin explained. “It’s diamond. We think it’s part of the destroyed statue’s axe, though we’ve been wondering how the diamond got there…”

 

“Betting you mean!” Shouted Bofur with a grin. “Well lass, how’d the diamond get there? Got 20 gold on it growing over the existing stone axe from your hobbity 'abanizûghel.”

 

Llorabell found the entire company staring expectantly at her. She’d have to explain some of it. The hobbit licked her suddenly dry lips. She had avoided explaining for as long as she could. Maybe she could just tell them the basics, avoid trying to explain how or why it happened.

 

Llorabell’s rushing thoughts paused at that. She could just tell them what happened and avoided explaining that it was unusual or that the arkenstone was involved.

 

Bofur’s words caught up with her thoughts. She looked back down at the rock. Diamond. Memory of the axe pulling free from the mountain, suddenly gleaming like a thousand arkenstones filled her mind. It had simply been diamond refracting the moonlight.

 

“Lass?”

 

Llorabell jerked her head up. She sighed at the staring dwarves. Right, they wanted an explanation. How to explain? “Uhh...Well…You see... I’m not entirely sure where the diamond came from. Smaug had knocked the statue’s weapon into the mountain and when it got back up the diamond was covering the axe blade…”

 

“Ha, pay up! Pay up!” Hooted Gloin, interrupting her explanation.

 

Dwalin scowled, “Ya didn’t bet that’s what happened!”

 

“Aye!” Cried Nori in agreement. The two dwarves paused to give each other looks before the thief shrugged and Dwalin sighed. The rest of the company jumped into with their own opinions. Llorabell sat in bemusement when no one asked what she meant about the statue moving.

 

Thorin sank down on her right with a soft grunt. Oin followed a minute later.

 

“How’re ya feeling?” Asked the healer as he lifted her foot with the hurt ankle. He carefully pushed and pulled at her foot, moving it in various angles.

 

“Better.”

 

Oin looked up at her thoughtfully, “Not back in tip top shape, though.”

 

Llorabell nodded.

 

“Yer ankle not given any twings when I do this, does it?” He asked as he pushed her foot up again.

 

Llorabell grimaced at the slight ache as the motion stretched muscles that didn’t want to be stretched. “No...Something feels stretched but it doesn’t hurt.”

 

The healer, seeing her expression, nodded. “The sprain is getting better.”

 

“Will she be able to walk around soon?” Asked Thorin.

 

“Ah, no. No, she should stay off her feet for a few more days at least. There are the burns that need healing on top of the ankle.” Oin said. He looked up at her thoughtfully, “How’s the head? Light still glowing too bright?”

 

Llorabell glanced at the light glowing from the treasury. She shrugged. The light seemed very bright still but that could simply be from her staying in the dark area of the hall instead of venturing out into the light.

 

Oin made a slight noise at her lack of a proper response. “A few more days of rest, I should think.”

 

“It’s not like Bilbo will be much help at the gate.” Agreed Balin. “or in the treasury. No offense lass, but you don’t seem to know much about stones and gold - certainly not enough to help organize it.”

 

“That’s true.” Muttered Thorin thoughtfully.

 

Llorabell looked between the three dwarves. “Well...yes, I don’t suppose I would be much help organizing the treasury but what’s this about the gate?”

 

Thorin grimaced, “The gate was fully destroyed when Smaug left. We need to seal it up temporarily.”

 

She hesitated for a second before asking. “Are we expecting...unkind company?”

 

The king smiled grimly at her. “Most certainly but it should be a while before such happens. No, winter is here. We need to seal the gaping hole into the mountain to keep the worst of the cold out.”

 

“Though, the ravens and birds have been celebrating. Roäc admitted that they’ve started to spread the word. Soon all of middle earth will know that the dragon is dead.” Add Balin.

 

Llorabell turned to Balin. “Who’s Roäc?”

 

Oin answered, sounding pleased, “Roäc is the leader of the ravens of Erebor. They’ve returned to Ravenhill as I said they had.” Oin gave Balin a triumphant look, “I told ya that the portents said that the ravens were returning.”

 

Balin gave a heavy sigh in response as Thorin caught Llorabell’s attention with a further explanation, “The raven’s of Erebor have always been allies of ours. Many of them have the ability to speak common and Roäc is one. Roäc came to us while we were investigating Smaug’s body. He gave thanks and explained some things he had seen of Smaug's demise. The raven had asked after you, in fact.”

 

“Explained some things?” She asked with a slight frown.

 

“Oh aye!” Cried another voice. Llorabell looked up to find the rest of the company had stopped their bickering at some point. Bofur stood grinning at her as he expanded, “The raven told us of the statues fighting Smaug!”

 

Llorabell breathed out an “oh” as her mind stuttered to a halt. What else had the bird said?

 

“The word will spread.” Add Dwalin. “Smaug is dead. Killed by the very mountain he had stolen.”

 

Her head snapped up at that. Her eyes grew wide in horror. “Wait! They can’t spread that! People aren’t supposed to know about such things!”

 

The company stood in silence for a second. Then they all bursted into motion, arguing and shouting at each other. Finally Thorin shouted out sharply, “Takât!”

 

Silence snapped out like a knife. The king turned to Llorabell. His expression was grim and determined. “The word would have already spread but does not include you within the tale. The raven’s chose to not spread lies and didn’t know what part you played. If asked we can allude to a dwarven secret or blessing from Mahal. We will keep your secret.”

 

Llorabell slowly nodded but paused. “What of my title? To keep this secret I cannot be the dragon’s death.”

 

Thorin frowned at her. Conflict flickered across his expression for a moment before he heavied a sigh. “Your title will not leave this company. We will not spread your deed through our people.” The king raised a hand as someone made a protesting sound. “We will remain silent to this deed to keep your secret. But we will not keep silent to the other deeds you have done for us.”

 

The room fell silent at his proclamation. Llorabell relax. The secret would stay safe and she no longer had a ridiculous title.

 

“We need to think of a new title, then.” Kili remarked.

 

“No you don’t!” Cried Llorabell.

 

Gloin added cheerfully, fully ignoring her. “We’ll have to celebrate again.” The rest of the dwarves all nodded seriously. A few serious looks cracked with grins.

 

“Why?” The hobbit asked in frustration.

 

Thorin raised a brow at her. “The deeds of the person is always celebrated properly, especially when a title is bestowed onto them.”

 

The lass gave him a flat look. “Why do I need another title?”

 

A snort escaped Dwalin. “Ya think ya shouldn’t have one after everything?”

 

“I don’t need a title.” She countered. “I wanted to help. Everyone deserves to have a home. I simply did what I could to help you take back yours. I did all this to help you, not for some title!”

 

Silence stretched across the room again. Llorabell found all the dwarves giving her various looks of appreciation. Fili’s stare seemed to burn into her in particular.

 

Thorin rose, clapping her shoulder warmly as he stood. “We wish to honor you for everything you’ve done for us. We know you didn’t do it for the prestige. At this point I doubt any of us would believe you if you claimed that you did it for the gold. Let us honor you.” The king paused and gave her a considering look. “It is our way. But we will not begrudge you if you choose to not name your title in introductions as titles do not seem to be your way.”

 

Llorabell stared up at him for a long moment before giving a reluctant nodded. He smiled down at her.

 

“It’ll take time for us to decide on a proper title.” Muttered Dori. “The first was perfect…”

 

“How to top it?” Agreed Bombur in mild annoyance.

 

Ori nodded enthusiastically. “It must be subtle to keep people from wondering about our hobbit but still bring across the same importance as her secret title.”

 

Thorin waved a hand out. “We can think about this while we work. You know where you’re best suited: To the treasury or the gate!”

 

The company dispersed. Fili took a moment to bring more water and food to her side but soon slipped out to the treasury with Kili. Llorabell found herself alone again. She was perfectly alright with that. The hobbit curled up. She could use another nap.

 

Days slipped by as the company worked diligently. It took only a few days to have the hole by Smaug sealed. It wasn’t long before that, that all the dwarves were working through the treasure.

 

It took another few days before Llorabell was awake enough to notice something was wrong. For the first few days she was able to convince herself that it was her imagination, stemmed from the elf king’s words. It was difficult to tell time in the mountain after all. Yet she couldn’t continue convincing herself when she had eaten three meals and still hadn’t seen any of her dwarves.

 

The dwarves didn’t pause often to eat or rest. Fili, Kili, and Bombur were by the most regularly but the rest seemed to only come once a day, if that. She needed to make sure they got some food and water. Overworking themselves like they were wasn’t going to do any of them any good.

 

With that thought in mind, the next morning Llorabell pulled the bandages from her feet. She paused as she saw them. The skin was raw. She pressed her hand against one of her soles. An ache threaded up from her touch. The hobbit lass frowned as she wiggled her toes. Nothing felt stretched from the burns but her feet were sensitive still.

 

Shaking her head at the strange occurrence, hobbit feet were not sensitive, Llorabell pulled herself up and hissed. An ache radiated out from both feet. Her ankle throbbed and her calf felt odd. A muscle or two was being stretched.

 

Llorabell took a moment to get used to the feeling before scooping up her wanders cape, thread case, a waterskin, and a bag of cram. Then the hobbit walked out into the treasury. She blinked through the bright light.

 

“Bilbo!”

 

“What are you doing!”

 

Fili and Kili rose from their seats at the stairs. Llorabell smiled at them. “I wanted to come join you all and make sure you eat.” She lifted the bag of cram. The brothers shared twin grimances.

 

Kili grumbled even as he took the bag, “Cram yesterday, cram today, cram tomorrow!” The brunette pulled out a biscuit and stuffed it in his mouth, “Wisch weave havv meeit.” Llorabell wrinkled her nose at Kili speaking with a full mouth.

 

Fili took Llorabell’s arm and, ignoring Kili’s grumblings, guided her over to the top step, “Sit. You shouldn’t be on your feet yet.” Fili shot a look back at Kili, “Don’t eat it all. Go see if anyone else wants some.”

 

Kili grumbled but, after stuffing a piece into Fili’s and Llorabell’s hands, stomped down the stairs.

 

“Fili.” Llorabell said before the blond could sit down by her, “You should offer water to everyone. It’s been a while since anyone’s been up to eat or drink.”

 

The prince stared down at her with a frown. “You’re going to stay here right? You aren’t going to start walking around when my back is turned?”

 

Llorabell huffed, “I’m not going to move as long as you lot take care of yourselves! Eat your cram, drink some water, and then go make everyone else do so too.”

 

Fili nodded slowly and smiled down at her. “As you wish.”

 

Llorabell watched as Fili obeyed her demands to eat before heading back into the camp to come out with a few of the other waterskins. He also brought a small bag of cram which he set at her side before stomping down the steps. She relaxed. The brothers would make sure everyone got some food and water.

 

The hobbit lass looked out across the treasury and spotted Gloin, Bombur, and Balin. She watched as the three dwarves slowly moved treasure. She couldn’t see any rhyme or reason but as Balin had noted a few days ago (or was it over a week ago?), she didn’t know gold or stone from the next. Fili climbed up to each and gave them water. Llorabell relaxed even more as each dwarf was left a waterskin.

 

The hobbit leaned against the stair rail and laid out her cape across her lap. She was almost caught up. Her fingers traced the unfinished barrels she had stitched into the cape. If she had ribbons she could make the water more robust looking. It would have been quicker to finish too. Blue ribbons and the silver wire would make the water quite nice.

 

Maybe she could get some ribbons to embroider the dragon’s fire? A deep red ribbon would do well. She could use the last of her red Took thread to create the dragon and similarly colored ribbons for the fire. Some of the Baggin’s copper wire would highlight the dragon and maybe the fire too?

 

Llorabell hummed quietly to herself as she went back to embroidering the barrels. She was going to run out of thread and wire soon. There wasn’t likely any thread or ribbons in Erebor but maybe she could find some wire fine enough to use.

 

She glanced up from her work every few minutes. Her eyes wandered over the treasury, checking on the three dwarves she could see and looking for ones she hadn’t seen yet. Soon, though, Llorabell fell into the calming rhythm of embroidering and lost track of time. She munched at her cram as she worked.

 

The next time she looked up was when her stomach rumbled with hunger and the small pile of cram were all gone. Llorabell frowned as she stared out. She had expected Fili and Kili back by now. Her eyes traced over the view. It hadn’t changed much. Her frown deepened. The three dwarves she could see hadn’t moved much at all. Balin had traveled the furthest, coming to rest on one of the lower steps.

 

Llorabell cut her thread and rolled it up. She watched the dwarves as she carefully put her threads back into their case and folded up her cape. The three didn’t move.

 

Llorabell watched with growing concern as time trickled away. She kept silently insisting that one of them would move on to a different section at any minute. Finally the hobbit couldn’t convince herself anymore. Something was wrong.

 

Gloin was staring at a diamond. He had been for the last twenty minutes. Bombur was crouched over the same small chest of treasure for longer than that. She vaguely recalled him leaning over that chest earlier that day. Balin was stroking a golden goblet filled with small gems as he stared out at the piles of treasure.

 

The hobbit called out to Balin, the closest of the three. “Balin.” The dwarf gave no indication of hearing her until she screamed out to him. “Balin!”

 

The elderly dwarf looked over at her in confusion. He called up to her with a hint of concern. “What are you doing out here lassie? Do you need something?”

 

Llorabell felt her tongue tie. He hadn’t noticed she had been out here for hours. Balin stared at her for a second longer before his gaze dropped to the goblet in his hands.

 

The hobbit snapped her thoughts back to the matter at hand. She didn’t actually have anything to say but she needed to say something to keep Balin from going back to staring witlessly at the treasure. “Umm.”

 

The hobbit thought furiously for a few seconds. Finally something came to mind. “Balin,” The dwarf looked back up at her; his eyes were glazed over. “Why do you call the Arkenstone the heart of the mountain?”

 

The glazed look vanished from the old dwarf’s gaze. Balin stared at her oddly before rising and climbing the steps up to her. He kept a firm hold of the goblet the entire time, not seeming to notice he even carried it. “Well it was found many a century ago in the depths of this mountain, at its roots. It has been a heirloom of the Durin line for as long as it has been unearthed.”

 

Balin paused with a slight frown and sank down on the step besides Llorabell. “The Arkenstone is the representation of Durin’s claim to rule and the honor of Mahal upon our line. The other dwarven clans will come to our call if we possess the stone. We originally hired you to steal it from Smaug so we would have been able to called the armies of the seven clans together to reclaim Erebor from the dragon.”

 

Balin hummed thoughtfully, “Though last time we called for aid we received it even without the stone, but the aid was agreed to only if we looked to reclaim Moria instead of Erebor. After Moria the other clans have refused to aid us in anyway. Many blame us for the devastating losses.” Balin paused sadly for a moment before refocusing. “Gandalf insistence that with the Arkenstone the clans would heed our call. I wasn’t not entirely sure that they would but it was a chance we had to make.”

 

The dwarf seemed lost in thought for a moment. Llorabell watched as his eyes began to glaze over and turn back to the treasure. Many questions sprang to mind but she decided to stick with her first line of thought. Balin hadn’t answered her question. She quick spoke, “But why call it the heart of the mountain? It isn’t actually the heart, is it?”

 

Balin refocused onto her, “Goodness lass, mountains do not have hearts. They aren’t living like we are.” He shook his head at her in amusement. “When King Thor had our most skilled jeweler shape it, he had the stone placed over his throne. The throne is in the center of the mountain, lass. The name just stuck after that. Of course, the lad that said it was an odd one but it happens.”

 

“Odd?”

 

The dwarf shrugged. “He was one of our most respected miners. Had 'abanizûghel, even. He gave the Arkenstone that title and then tried to stop us from shaping the stone to its best.” Balin shook his head. “The entire line had lost itself. They had refused the royal demand on mining where the Arkenstone was found. They had even tried to stop the mining exhibition all together but it was by Mahal’s will that area be minded once more.”

 

“Mahal’s will?”

 

“The king had had a vision. He was to have the area mined even though the section was deemed depleted.”

 

“And then when his orders were followed, the miners found the Arkenstone.”

 

Balin smiled at her. “Aye, lass. Aye.”

 

“That’s why its a sign of Mahal’s blessing.” She breathed out.

 

The dwarf nodded at her with a smile, “Exactly. Now get some rest.” Balin rose, gave her a soft pat on the shoulder, and returned to the treasure. The hobbit stared after him. All her questions died on her lips with how quickly Balin turned back to the treasury.

 

Llorabell couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something. Why would someone give a stone such a name? Maybe it was something only a dwarf could understand or a dwarf with that ability, stone sense; if she recalled Ori’s explanation correctly. Bifur had stonesense. She could ask him if he knew.

 

But for now she had more pressing worries than the stone. Llorabell frowned worriedly after Balin. She watched as the old dwarf trailed down to the last step and sat once again. He picked up a stone and lifted it up. After a good few minutes Balin nodded and added the stone to his cup. Then he returned to staring out at the treasure like before she had caught his attention. It wasn’t natural for anyone to be that enamored by anything.

 

She needed to go find someone with some sense left in them. Llorabell pushed herself up onto her feet and slowly walked down the steps, clutching her cape in her hands. She flinched as she stepped into the treasure. Her feet stung sharply with every step and her ankle throbbed but Llorabell ignored it. Honey eyes wandered over the treasure in search for more dwarves.

 

She found Oin and Bofur first. Neither paid her any mind at all, even when she called out to them multiple times. Oin didn’t complain about her walking on her feet. Neither even looked at her. The hobbit lass continued on, worry bubbling in her gut.

 

Llorabell found and left alone the Ri brothers. All three were as bad off as the rest of the dwarves. None of them noticed her. None seemed to hear her call. They all were distracted by some piece of treasure. They were too enamored to care about the rest of the world.

 

It was when she came across Fili and Kili she finally found some hint of sense left. The two brothers noticed and acknowledged her before she even noticed them.

 

“Bilbo what are you doing?” Fili cried out, “You said you won’t move.”

 

The blond dwarf slid and stomped down the pile of treasure he was standing on. Frustration and annoyance radiated off him. “Sit.”

 

“Fili.” Sighed Llorabell in relief.

 

Fili frowned at her. “Sit down.” He ordered.

 

Llorabell sank down onto a chest. “Fili.” The blond dwarf knelt and pulled up one of her feet. His hands carefully moved over her foot, checking for injury. All it did was make her squirm. It was ticklish. She had never had her feet feel ticklish before. Dratted dragon fire making her feet sensitive. Llorabell squeaked as Fili brushed an extra sensitive spot. “Would you stop that!”

 

The dwarf gave her a bland look. “No, you could have hurt yourself!”

 

“I did not! I know how to take care of myself unlike all of you!” Hissed Llorabell. The two glared at each other. Both of them were frustrated and worried.

 

“Oin said you need to rest for a few more days.” Fili scowled up at her.

 

“Last time he even came to see me was a few days ago!” She countered.

 

Fili shook his head. “That can’t be right. We checked on you together a few minutes before you came out to the treasury.”

 

“No you didn’t.”

 

Kili ran up to them with a grin, interrupting the potential argument. “I think this is it Fee!”

 

Fili lowered her foot and turned to his brother. “Really?”

 

“Fili.” The hobbit lass spoke. She repeated herself with a hint of annoyance as the two brothers ignored her.

 

Fili took whatever it was Kili had and grinned. “This is perfect.”

 

“Fili you need to listen to me.” Snapped Llorabell.

 

The prince turned to her and set something onto her head. “That looks very good in your hair.”

 

“Fili! Everyone has gone crazy.” Llorabell hissed out. Her hand flew up to her head and pulled off the jewelry. She tossed it to the side without any thought. Shock flooded the two prince’s faces.

 

“Bilbo?”

 

“No one is taking care of themselves! They all are too busy staring at treasure!” Llorabell added, “How long have you been hunting for some perfect jewel to stick in my hair? Have you eaten anything since I forced you to? Drank anything?”

 

Tears welled up. Worry and frustration gnawed hungrily at her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. Fili and Kili weren’t themselves either. Whatever had caught the other dwarves simply hadn’t caught them fully.

 

“It’s not that bad.” Kili remarked from the side. “We’ve just gotten started, what, an hour ago?”

 

Llorabell lifted up her cape. “I’ve gotten hours worth of embroidery done today. You left when I started.”

 

The princes looked down at her cape. “You’ve done quite a lot since I’ve seen your cape.” Remarked Kili.

 

Fili touched the barrels. “These hadn’t been done. Laketown hadn’t existed at all.” He whispered. His hand dropped from the embroidery.

 

Fili and Kili looked at each other. Worry stretched across their faces. “Do you think?” Asked Kili, not finishing his question but Fili clearly understood.

 

“Take Biblo out of here, Kee. I’ll… I’ll find Uncle and we’ll figure this out.”

 

Kili nodded sharply. Llorabell squeaked when she suddenly found herself in Kili’s arms. “Kili!” She smacked his chest in complaint. “I can walk.”

 

“You’re not walking till Oin says you can.” Kili countered firmly as he stomped down the pile.

 

The hobbit grumbled quietly to herself as she realized there was no winning the argument. She sifted in the prince’s arms and held onto his shoulders for support. The hobbit lass had the distinct feeling that there had been too much carrying her around lately but with the orders of the company’s healer superseding her own insistences. There wasn’t much she could do.

 

Llorabell glanced behind them to watch Fili climb up the treasure pile. Hopefully he would be able to find Thorin before he got trapped by the allure of the treasure like everyone else. She bit her lip. She shouldn’t let him go on his own. Who would pull him from the spell if he fell to it like the rest?

 

“He’ll be fine.” Kili stated as he headed out of the treasury, away from their little camp. “Fili will find uncle and figure this out.”

 

“Shouldn’t we head back to the camp?” Llorabell countered, choosing to ignore Kili’s words. He would be fine. Of course he would be. The hobbit mentally squashed her bubbling fear. Fili would be fine. They all would be fine.

 

Llorabell felt Kili shrug before his voice rumbled out. “There’s another way back to the camp. I figured you’d and Fili would prefer if we avoided going through the treasury.”

 

“Oh.” She breathed. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

The walked through the stone hall before it opened up into a great cavern. Llorabell stared in wonder out at the expense of the mountain kingdom. What she could see were great carved stone pillars and walkways. There were areas on the walls in the the pillars that looked like windows and doors. As Kili walked across the walkway the hobbit came to realize that they were on a single level of the kingdom. Looking above them revealed higher levels of walkways.

 

Kili turned a corner and Llorabell squeaked, tightening her grip as they came to a set of stairs Kili proceeded to almost skip down. There was no railing. It was a very long way down to the next walkway. It was Dori and Nori throwing her up the stairs all over again. Except Kili was almost running downstairs.

 

“You alright?” Asked Kili. Llorabell could hear amusement coloring his voice.

 

“Where are the railings?!” She hissed into his chest.

 

“Looks like they were torn out.” Kili paused before adding. “I think I saw some railings in the treasury.”

 

“You used gold for railings?” The hobbit ask in incredibility.

 

Kili laughed, “Well, yes it seems like we did.” The prince hopped down the last few stairs, skipping two steps all together.

 

Llorabell couldn’t help the high squeal that escaped her lips. Her arms tightened around Kili’s neck and the dwarf chuckled. “What?!”

 

“Just thinking that Fili should carry you around next time.” Kili explained as he turned down another walkway.

 

Llorabell turned red but pulled away and glared up at the dwarf. “Don’t you dare tell him!”

 

Kili simply grinned at her before taking another turn, revealing another set of stairs.

 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” The hobbit lass hissed out. “What is it with you dwarves and stairs!?! It’s not sensible at all.”

 

“Exactly how isn’t it sensible?” Kili countered.

 

Llorabell scowled into his chest as she tucked her head in so she couldn’t see the steep drop they were walking right next to. Her voice was muffled as she explained, “We hobbit keep things on one level. Makes it simplier. Much simpler. You’re less likely to fall.”

 

“Oh yes, clearly that’s the sensible thing to do. Live in a mountain but just at the base. No need to expand above or below.” Kili said drily. The hobbit lass grumbled against his chest. “Shit!” Cursed Kili suddenly as he ducked, falling to his knees on the stairs, and dropping Llorabell onto the stairs in front of him.

The hobbit lass stared wide eyed at Kili as he looked up sharply and cursed colorfully in khuzdul. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

 

The young prince scowled up at the dark. Llorabell couldn’t help seeing the resemblance between uncle and nephew again. “You mangy bird!” Growled Kili as he sat up. “Why’d you dive at us!”

 

“Wha-” Breathed Llorabell. A raven landed on the step in front of her before she could finish.

 

The raven tilted its head at her before turning to Kili and opening it’s beak. Broken words came out. “Elfman. Come.”

 

Llorabell glanced over at Kili. “Eh. A male elf is coming?”

 

The raven turned to her and repeated, slower. “Elf. Man. Come.”

 

“Uh.” Llorabell breathed out. Her heart was finally calming down.

 

Kili leaned forward and said. “Elves and men are coming?”

 

The raven turned back to Kili and hopped down a step. “Yes.”

 

Kili cursed. Llorabell grabbed the dwarf before he could run off. “How many?” She demanded of the raven.

 

“Elf. Lot.” The raven said. “Man. Few.”

 

“Laketown men?” Llorabell asked. “Mirkwood elves?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Kili lifted Llorabell up and sprinted up the stairs. He shouted behind him, “We’re up here.” The prince turned back around as he reached the top step. “Could you bring Roäc?”

 

The raven crowed an affirmative before flying into the dark.

 

The dark haired dwarf ran down the walkway and almost flew through one of the doors coming off it. Fili, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin were standing in the middle of the room. They were in the camp again.

 

“Where have you been?” Fili demanded.

 

Kili ignored his brother and spoke to Thorin. “There’s a group of elves and men heading this way!”

 

“What!” Demanded Thorin.

 

“A raven came.” Kili explained. The dwarves all turned grim and started talking to and over each other. It took only a few minutes for them to come to some type of consensus. Dwalin and Balin stomped back into the treasury.

 

Llorabell squirmed in Kili’s grip, finally feeling that she could safely interrupt. “Would you set me down?”

 

An old raven flew through the door just as the three Durin’s directed their attention to her. Kili quickly set her down to her feet as the raven landed on some gear. None of the dwarves paying any mind to her standing on her feet.

 

Llorabell stared down at the old raven. Most of its head was balding. It was an odd look for a bird.

 

Dwalin, Gloin, and Bombur stomped back into the room as Thorin spoke to the raven. “Greetings Roäc. We’ve heard of some elves and men heading this way. Do you have any more information than what your kin passed over to us.”

 

Roäc nodded his head slightly. “Greetings Thorin, King of the Mountain. The Elf King comes with an army at his back. The Lakemaster comes with a party. They desire treasure of the mountain. The Elf King claims rights to jewels of starlight. The Lakemaster claims rights to a share for hospitality give.”

 

The company became grim at the raven’s words. Llorabell looked around them all and found that Balin had reentered with the rest of the company at his back. They all looked grim and furious. Llorabell unconsciously backed up at the fierce looks. In that moment she was reminded sharply of the tales of dwarves, particularly the stories of their fierce possessiveness of gold. The elf king’s words whispered in the back of her mind stronger than ever.

 

_The greed of dwarves burns as brightly as dragon flames._

 

“They come for our treasure.” Snarled Thorin. The king turned towards his kin, nearly spitting out, “They claim rights to what is ours. The men stand by the elves and will demand more than agreed to.” Thorin turned sharply back to the raven. “Roäc, will you send word to my kin in the Ironhills?”

 

The raven nodded. “As allies of old, yes.”

 

Thorin nodded, “Dain Ironfoot resides as lord. Tell him the mountain is reclaimed and elves come to take it from us. I would have him come with an army at his back to protect Durin’s treasure, our treasure!”

 

The king turned sharply back towards the company. “We are to prepare for war. Balin do you remember where the armory is?” Balin nodded. “Lead everyone there and armor up. Dwalin break everyone up into threes. We will rotate in three for gate duty. The rest of you will find the Arkenstone!”

 

Llorabell jerked at his last words. Why did he need the Arkenstone? Balin’s explanation earlier came to mind. It was a sign of their right to rule and the other clans would come to their aid if they had it. But surely Dain would come to their aid without it. There was no dragon to deal with now.

 

The company dispersed, leaving Llorabell and Thorin. The king stepped over to the treasury entrance and looked out. His hands folded behind his back.

 

Llorabell shifted back and forth. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her eyes wandered to her pack where the Arkenstone lay. It was Thorin’s but there was something wrong with it. Why hadn’t Gandalf shown up yet?

 

Roäc fluttered up to an alcove by Thorin’s head and capturing the king’s attention. “Be careful King of the Mountain. The treasure is likely to be your death as it has been the mountain’s.”

 

“What?” Demanded Thorin. Llorabell agreed with that question. Her heart pounded at the warning. What did the raven mean?

 

The raven didn’t explain. It simply took flight.

 

“Thorin.” Llorabell spoke up hesitantly. The king turned sharply back at her with a startled look. He had forgotten she was there.

 

The dwarf stared at her for a moment before he said, “What is it?”

 

“Why do you need the Arkenstone?”

 

Thorin seemed to relax at her question. An amused smile stretched across his grim baring. “I don’t expect you to understand, Bilbo. It is the jewel of my house. Dain would expect to see it when he comes.”

 

Llorabell frowned at him, “But why do you need to find it now? Could...Shouldn’t we prepare for the army coming?” Llorabell waved her hands about, “Like...like getting food and water together?”

 

The king’s smile grew into a grin and he muttered to himself, “He’s chosen well.” Llorabell frowned. Who?

 

Thorin walked over to her and clapped her shoulder. “Come, let us prepare for war. The chainmail I gifted you shouldn’t be the only armor you wear. Then you can take a few of us down to find food. Bombur and Balin I think would do best.”

 

Llorabell quietly followed the king as he headed out. “Balin should remember where the mushroom caverns are and while the bats may have fled with the dragon, the lakes should have fish. They couldn’t have fled, I don’t think. Of course Smuag may have done something to the lakes.”

 

“Bats?” The hobbit couldn’t help but ask as she wrinkled her nose. “You eat bats?”

 

Thorin looked down at her with even more amusement coloring his expression. “Yes. We usually roast them but the smaller kind is sometimes used in soup.”

 

Llorabell felt her stomach roll at the idea. “Remind me not to eat any of your soup.”

 

The king laughed warmly as he guided her through the maze of walkways. “It might be the only food we have. Winter has come after all. And, anyway, it’s similar to eating squirrel. A bit different flavor and the texture could be considered a cross between squirrel and bird but close enough.”

 

She shook her head at the thought. “That doesn’t sound like squirrel at all.”

 

“Then you’ll just have to eat mushrooms all winter.” Thorin countered with a shrug and smirk. Llorabell had the sudden urge to smack him on the shoulder for the snark. The sound of singing stopped her.

 

She followed Thorin into what could only be the armory. The company were singing in khuzdul as they moved through the rows of armor and weapons. Thorin moved through the room and joined in the song.

 

Llorabell watched silently as the company helped each other find gear that fit. They all were ignoring anything that didn’t have golden inlayed across the platemail. Thorin chose armor that looked to be dipped in gold.

 

The hobbit lass shifted uncertainly as their rumbling voices echoed through the room. The weapons they were picking up seemed as decorative as the armor. Kili was testing a bow covered in gold and silver. Dwalin was comparing his own hammer to another diamond encrusted one.

 

Fili stomped up to her and pulled one of her arms up to compare to a vambrace. It was beautifully made and clearly two sizes too big. The blond dwarf paused in his singing to make a sound of annoyance. Then he tossed the armor piece to the side and pulled her further into the room. He began singing again, this time in common though it was clearly the same song.

 

“Bring to me all of my axes

Bring to me my hammer too

I fear we might need them both

Before the night is through”

 

The rest of the company switched to the common tongue as Fili walked through the room. Fili pulled Llorabell to a seat before moving around in search of armor that would fit her. None interrupted the song. Llorabell didn’t either even though she wanted to tell him that all the platemail he was pulling out would be too heavy. Something about the atmosphere kept her silent.

 

“Once a world of glittering hope

This world is not the world we knew

The only light left to shine

Is between me and you

 

On our own

In a World of Stone

We are not alone...”

 

Fili paused in his singing again when he finally found a pair of arm guards that fit. They were the simplest pair he had brought over. He didn’t look even slightly thrilled over that fact.

 

Llorabell choose to take the facet that it was made mostly of leather instead of platemail as source of his displeasure for the vambrace. It couldn’t be because it only had a small design of gold across it. The braces would work well with her gloves at least.

 

He looked her over for a moment and frowned down at her feet. Llorabell watched as Fili looked around at the boots near by. If it wasn’t for the song, she would head him off before he brought over any heavy dwarven boots. She wasn’t going to wear any of them, especially any of the plated ones. Fili returned to the song as he rose and headed off to find more armor.

 

The others paused at her side to hand back her weapons they had borrowed. Soon she was only missing the weapons she had left at camp. Llorabell stared down at her letter opener. Sting. Thorin had been carrying it all this time.

 

The song vibrated around her as the dwarves continued to prepare for war. Fire glowed in their eyes. Gold glittered over their bodies. Llorabell felt like she was going to be sick. Tears filled her eyes as she watched them prepare.

 

They were going to war.

 

“Bring me mead and bring me ale

To help us face this fight again

Good fortune will shine down on us

Together we will win”

 

If it was just men coming to the mountain, war might be avoided. It was elves that were coming, though. Tratorious Mirkwood elves who had kept them captive and who didn’t aid the dwarves when they had needed it most.

 

“And they will never break our spirit

We will never turn and run

And we will rise stronger still

When we stand as one!”

  
Llorabell didn’t want to go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end is World of Stone. I changed a few words. You can hear it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qHdAOKoL18
> 
> Its a perfect song for dwarves.
> 
> Khuzdul (let me know if I missed something):  
> takât = silence  
> 'abanizûghel = stone sense
> 
> So the gold sickness has kicked in just not as deeply as Llorabell thinks - she's still recovering and getting a little paranoid herself from all the signs and warnings she's been seeing.
> 
> Anyway, hope this chapter was good.
> 
> Cheers,  
> NovusArs


	13. Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm

 

The edge of the stairs crumbled. Llorabell pressed herself against the wall. The falling rock made no sound as she stared out into the dark. It was a very long drop.

 

“Come on, lassie!” Called Balin from further down. “We haven’t got all day.”

 

Llorabell turned her gaze down the spiraling stairs. Apparently some of the mushroom caverns were kept in the depth of the mountain, as far from the treasury as possible. The underwater lakes were down here somewhere also. 

 

A hand clasped her shoulder. The hobbit looked up at Bombur. The rotund dwarf smiled reassuringly at her. “Now don’t ya worry.” The redhead looked around the circular path. Great grooves were etched into the walls. Whole chunks of the stairs had been taken out. Smaug had traveled down this pathway. Bombur turned back to her, his smile still in place. He tugged the rope attached to the miner’s harness she was wearing. “The stairs shouldn’t fall. Stay near the wall and if they do fall this won’t let you go with them.”

 

The hobbit gave a jerking nodded. Bofur had given her the same reassurance when he had helped put the harness on her. She wore one of the miner helmets too. It was too big but it would protect her head and had an oil candle lighting her path. Fili had told Bofur about her sight in the dark, apparently. 

 

Llorabell squinted out into the dark. The candle only lit a few feet around her. She’d have to thank Fili when she got back up. She hadn’t realized that the treasure gave off so much light in the mountain. No other light seemed to shine. There was no windows, no natural light. 

 

The consistent golden haze didn’t reach beyond the first few levels of the large open cavern in the center of the great city. How the treasury gave off a golden light was worrying but she had too many things to worry about. The hobbit slowly stretched down the step that was too tall for her hobbity size. Far too many things.

 

An ache throbbed up her feet with each step she took. The dark swallowed up the candle light. Only the sound of Bombur walking slowly behind her and the echos of Balin as the elderly dwarf nearly charged down the stairs reached her pointed ears. 

 

It felt like the mountain was closing in on her. She needed to get outside. She needed to feel fresh air, hear the singing of plants again.

 

Llorabell shivered as the cold of the underground leached through her wanderer’s cape. The leather and plated armor Fili had forced on her seemed to take in the cold.

 

She was just so tired. Everything continued to pile up. Everything should have been better now. The dragon was dead. The dwarves had their home. 

 

The hobbit stilled as the candle light reached a section where Smaug had ripped out the stairs. There was a large gap. She had to jump it. 

 

Balin stood waiting on the otherside. “Come on now.” He called out impatiently. “The sooner we get the food and water, the sooner we can help find the Arkenstone!”

 

The burglar had the sudden urge to throw a rock at the dwarf. Bombur paused behind her. “Do ya need help?” 

 

Llorabell twisted around before the dwarf could grab her waist. She waved her hand about at the dwarf’s face, memories of Dori and Nori tossing her about coming to mind. “No. NO! No, no, no.”  The hobbit stared up at the redhead for a moment more before turning around, firmly ignoring the cook’s amusement.

 

She took a steadying breath. “I can do this.” She rubbed her hands together. “Yes, yes. I can do this. Just a hop, a very big hop, and I’ll be over on the next stairs and we’ll get down to food and water and we’ll be good.” 

 

Llorabell slowly stepped down the last few steps to the gap. “Just a single, very big ho-” The hobbit screamed out a curse as she suddenly found herself flying over the gap. Balin caught her.

 

“There now, that wasn’t so bad?” The dwarf smiled down at her as he set her down on the step.

 

She glared up at him, her heart pounding away in her chest. These dwarves have stolen years off her life. She was going to go gray soon, get stress lines and everything. No one would believe she was just thirty-three.

 

Thirty-four. 

 

Her birthday had passed by. Llorabell followed Balin as she frowned over that. Had her birthday been at Beorn’s? Mirkwood? It was her first birthday she hadn’t celebrated. How very odd.

 

“Ah, here we are.” Balin stated, his usual good cheer reappearing for a moment. The hobbit lass shook the stray thoughts away. It didn’t matter how old she was anymore. 

 

Llorabell stared around as she stepped down the last step. All she saw was a number of squared hallways branching out from the circular room the stairs had ended in. Two of the hallways had darkened walls. Dragon fire had melted the rock smooth.

 

“This way.” 

 

She followed Balin down one of the two melted hallways. At the other end was a large cavern as melted as the hall. She couldn’t see the entire cavern but she doubted she was missing anything.

 

Llorabell carefully touched the melted rock. It was so quiet. 

 

“This used to be brimming with mushrooms of all flavors and types. It went on and on.” Breathed Balin. “Now it’ll never grow food.”

 

“There are others, aren’t there?” Ask Bombur.

 

Balin turned away from the cavern. His brow was creased with worry. “Aye but this was the furthest from the treasury. We had thought he wouldn’t have…” Balin looked back around for a moment. “But perhaps he hadn’t found the others.”

 

Llorabell asked, “What about the other halls?”

 

“Yes, yes of course.” Balin agreed after a moment. “He only burned two of the halls down. the other’s might be useable still.”

 

They walked back to the first room. This time they split up. Balin went down the other melted hallway for a quick check. Bombur and Llorabell choose one each by random.

 

The hallway led Llorabell to a cavern that was not as large as the melted one. It wasn’t carved by dwarven hands or melted by dragon fire either. There were multiple naturally formed columns, groups of stalagmites clustered around the natural floor, and the candle light reflected off wet tips of stalactites. Stone ladders lined the walls. A few rings of metal hung from the rocks, perhaps placed there long ago to hold rope. The ceiling wasn’t visible and many of the ladders disappeared into the dark.

 

Llorabell slowly walked into the cavern, hands tracing the cool walls. She could see a vague resemblance to the hidden cave back home, the one whose ceiling had fallen in and she had spent years of her childhood playing adventures within. The hobbit had the sudden urge to call out a greeting like she always did when going to that cave.

 

“Fáilti!”

 

The stone didn’t respond.

 

“One of the bat menageries.” Remarked Balin as he walked in. “Empty.”

 

Llorabell looked over at the dwarf. “How can you tell?”

 

Balin shook his head sadly before waving his hand at his own miners cap and candle, “Bats make plenty of noise and the candle light would have disturbed some of them. There is no food down here.” Balin sighed heavily before turning and heading back down the hall, “Best head back. We’ll send Bofur or someone to check the other areas for food.”

 

She turned to follow when a soft rumble reached her ears. Llorabell turned back to the cave, perking up. “Hello?”

 

A whisper of a rumble answered. One word reached her ears. Llorabell frowned at the word. Evunal. Return. “Return what?”

 

She received no answer.

 

Though Thorin had originally ordered a three person watch, he changed it to a single person watch by the time she had returned from the failed attempt to find food. She was placed on watch, relieving Fili, since before the sun had set. Llorabell wasn’t sure if any dwarf was going to come relieve her at this point. They all were too busy searching for the Arkenstone.

 

The night’s sky gleamed with hundreds of stars. Only a few clouds were out. Though she had been on watch twice as long as she should have been Llorabell found herself enjoying the fresh cold breeze. All that was missing was the whispers of the land. Everything was still so quiet. Too quiet. 

 

Llorabell tucked her hands into her cape. She was in full armor and had all her weapons on her. The only thing she was missing were boots but no one had brought up the issue since unsuccessfully finding any that would fit her and allow her to walk. (Contra to Bofur’s claims, platemail boots that had her stumble into a pile on the floor were neither humorous nor useable footwear.)

 

She pulled her legs up, tucking them under her cape. It was just long enough to give her feet a little cover. The hobbit rested her chin on her knees and she felt her eyes drawn back to the sky. 

 

The hobbit lass found herself wondering what was happening back in the Shire. Everyone would be bunkering down for winter. The first flurries of snow would have reached the recently harvested fields. Only the winter greens - brussel sprouts, kale, broccoli - would still be thriving and singing jaunty tunes about growing. 

 

Mr. Cotton would have come by to offer help collecting firewood for her pile (at the same time asking after his wife’s next batch of eglantine tea), “as no fine young thing should be running around with an axe”. Llorabell smiled sadly at the memory from yester winters past. He always came to help since the Fell Winter. He was a kind old man and his family was just as kind, no matter that their nephew had been trying to initiate an unofficial courtship with her. 

 

Llorabell’s mind continued to wonder from what the night sky would be like above her smial to what her birthday dress would have been if she had stayed. Every once in a while her thoughts turned towards what would happened when she got back. She never let it stray for long, though.

 

It was a few hours later when the sounds of boots quietly filtered out of the hall behind her. “Evening lass.” Llorabell looked back into the mountain. Nori stood watching her in amusement. “Cold?” A flirtatious smile peaked from his beard. “I could warm ya up.”

 

The hobbit blushed, “Nori.” 

 

The thief walked over to her as he spoke, “I bet a wee little kiss will warm ya right up.”

 

Llorabell stared helplessly at the dwarf, both flattered and frustrated. “No.”

 

Nori tilted his head at her. “Alright, so ya’ve figured it all out finally?”

 

She breathed out in confusion. “What?”

 

“Almost figured it out then.” Nori countered as he settled down at her side. The thief pulled out her spoon with the picklocks. 

 

“What are you talking about.”

 

The dwarf leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. Llorabell watched as he rubbed the bowl of the spoon with a thumb, the flower design dulled from constant rubbing even as the silver gleamed as if recently cleaned. The golden rings decorating his fingers countered the silver. 

 

“Yer in love with Fili, lass.” Nori looked over at her. “Ya’ve been for a long while now.” Llorabell felt her mouth fall agape, speechless. “The offer still stands, though.”

 

“Wha-what?” Stuttered Llorabell.

 

Nori snorted. “What part do ya not get? It’s clear as a diamonds that ya love him. No one willing to give someone up like ya have could possibly not be in love. If ya hadn’t been in love ya wouldn’t be so distraught over giving him up. And ya’ve been distraught lass. We’ve all noticed, why’d ya think we’ve been giving ya a large breadth? Dwalin and Gloin take extra care to avoid getting in yer way lately. They’ve experience and wisdom with dwarrowdam-matters. Learned to follow their lead usually.”

 

“I’m not-”

 

“Lass, yer in love with that lad. Ya might still be learning about him but ya know him better than ya think. All ya missing is finding all the things about him that’ll make ya crazy and ready to toss a skillet in his face when he stomps in at the end of a day.” Nori countered dryly.

 

Llorabell felt her face color, lost for words. She was not in love with Fili. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be.“What about Fili’s mother, uhh…” Llorabell argued while also changing the topic but then hesitated, unable to remember the dwarrowdam’s name or if she had ever heard the her name before.

 

“Lady Dis.” Nori stated helpfully. “She and Dwalin are about the same age. He learned from his dealing with her not to bother a dwarrowdam when she’s distraught. Fili and Kili are too young to understand that how they handle their amad is how ya handle all lasses. Our King is a right idiot when it comes to his sister so tis not surprising he’s got no clue how to handle other lasses.”

 

Llorabell rubbed her face with a groan. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack him or laugh. 

 

“As for my offer.” Nori continued, “It stands till yer good and married proper.”

 

Tears welled up as she looked up at the sky. The idea of having Fili accept the bond hit her all at once. That was what Nori was talking about. “Why?” She choked out as she tried to stop her emotions - they’ve been all over lately and she was tired of it as much as she was tired of everything else.

 

“‘Cause yer a gorgeous lass whose helped us more than we deserve.” Nori answered. “‘Cause ya shouldn’t have to return home with less than what ya left with. I’d stand in Fili’s place to make sure of that...gladly. It’s too bad I wasn’t the one to fall into the dark with ya.”

 

Her lips trembled. Squeezing her eyes shut, a few tears slipped out. “Thank you Nori but I won’t have you trapped like that. I’ll be fine, even if Fili decides not to pursue a..uh…marriage.”

 

“It still stands.” Nori said again.

 

Llorabell shook her head. The thoughts of the Shire and her birthday, and thoughts about Fili waiting years before he would be king sprang to mind at his insistence. All her emotional turmoil whispered in the back of her mind. “You dwarves live centuries longer than us hobbits. I wouldn’t put any of you in such a position. And..and.. The Shire is no mountain. You should stay in the mountain you risked to take back. And..” Llorabell looked over at Nori, a few more tears falling. “I’m no dwarf. I’m not a dwarrowdam. I have no beard. I’ve no muscle. I’m terrible at fighting - everything has been pure luck!”

 

“Stop it. Lass, don’t think any of us have forgotten about the age issue. And know that the rest ain’t really an issue either. It’ll make things difficult at times, I’m sure, but not an issue.” Nori reached out and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “It still stands. there’s nothing ya can say to undo it. Now off with ya, I’m taking over watch.”

 

The hobbit hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I didn’t think of you when I thought I was going to die. Not really.”

 

Nori tugged her into a one armed hug. “Ya thought of Fili. Who else would ya think of?”

 

“And you’re alright with that?”

 

Nori’s arm tightened for a moment before he let go. “Go get some sleep Bilbo.”

 

Llorabell hesitated again before rising and slipping back into the mountain. She glanced back once to find Nori sitting in the same position, twirling the picklocks between fingers glinting with gold.

 

She could have been happy with him. In another life she would have happily looked beyond the rough exterior and roughish appearance and have found a deep companionship. Llorabell was sure of it.

 

But now, right now she was ignoring it all. Thorin had given his permission. Fili had asked her to wait. She would allow herself a hint of hope and she would put it behind her. There was a war and the poison to worry about. There was coming winter with no food and the strangeness of the Arkenstone to figure out. There was the growing draw of the treasure on her dwarves and the silence of the mountain to be concerned about, too. 

 

Llorabell found the camp empty. She wasn’t surprised. The hobbit was too tired to go looking for the others. She ate a half piece of cram, took a few swigs of the dwarvish alcohol (and a single swig of their dwindling water supply), and curled up to sleep. 

 

She woke just as alone. 

 

Llorabell stared at the entrance to the treasury. She didn’t want to go in there but she needed to do something. Had any of them come to get food? The hobbit looked around and found that nothing had moved from her memory of last night. Paranoia gnawed at her. Some of them had to of stopped by. They had to of.

 

And yet, she knew it was a foolish hope.

 

The hobbit lass grabbed a water skin and, after a moment of searching, her metal cup. She grabbed up the dwindling bag of cram. Then with a deep, steadying breath, Llorabell stepped into the treasury. 

 

Golden haze of the treasury blinded her for a moment. Blinking rapidly cleared her sight. It was a disappointing view. Llorabell couldn’t spy any dwarves. 

 

She climbed down the stairs, careful to avoid any pointed gems as she went. Then she, after a moment of looking around in a circle, trudged through the piles of gold and jewels in a random direction.

 

It seemed like an eternity before she heard more than the tinkling and dinging of the treasure moving under her feet. A muffled growl of khuzdul reached her ears as she came close to the top of the hill she was climbing. A second voice filtered through and Llorabell turned red.

 

That was Fili. Llorabell just knew she had unconsciously headed in his direction. The hobbit lass reached the top of the pile and quickly turned towards her bonded. The view killed her voice.

 

Fili and Thorin were arguing. She couldn’t understand what they were saying but it was obvious by their stance and the tone of their raised voices. Finally, Thorin snarled out at his sister’s son, “lu'rayadê id-ahfâr bêthmi!”

 

The words silenced Fili. Llorabell watched with a tight throat as the blond prince bowed stiffly, saying something too quiet for her to hear. Thorin waved him away sharply before pulling tight the fured coat he was wearing. Fili quickly left.

 

Llorabell bit her lip in thought as she watched Thorin. The king turned to the treasury. Then he just stood there. 

 

Thorin’s clothes had changed since last she had saw him. The fur coat he wore was heavy and a deep brown. It seemed to weigh him down as his shoulders slumped where he stood. Llorabell slowly made her way towards him and could see as she got closer how his eyes seemed to shift around as if searching for someone or something at the corner of his sight. 

 

“Thorin?” She called out. The dwarf jerked. His eyes snapped to her. Then the slump of his shoulders straightened, his sight seemed to clear - no longer twitching toward the edge looking for something that wasn’t there. 

 

“Bilbo.” He greeted warmly. Then a frown appeared and his eyes narrowed for a moment, “You have not been speaking with Fili, have you?” The king demanded.

 

Llorabell paused, seeing Thorin’s body stiffen and one of his hands moved towards his side where a blade should have rested but only a golden belt gleamed. The movement parted all the furs and gold, allowing a hint of Thorin’s blue tunic to peak through. 

 

“I just awoke.” She said and then lifted her full hands, “Would you like some food? Water?”

 

The suspicion faded as Thorin smiled. The dwarf rumbled out in Khuzdul as he took up the water skin “Zu'agbul yâsith und ùna galzur.” Llorabell grumbled at him for both ignoring the metal cup she held up and the use of words she didn’t understand.

 

The king handed the water back before accepting a piece of cram. “Have you seen the others?”

 

“Ah.” Llorabell blinked before shaking her head and looking over at the treasury, “You’re the first I’ve found so far.”

 

“They should be searching for the Arkenstone.” Something in Thorin’s voice made her turn back with a frown.

 

A cloud seemed to have covered the king. A dark look glowed from his eyes. He suspiciously stared out into the treasury. 

 

“Thorin?”

 

Thorin shook his head sharply, the suspicion vanished in that moment. “Go make sure the others are fed. We only have so much time left till the elves come.”

 

Llorabell nodded before heading back out. She felt like she was fleeing. The hobbit lass firmly squashed the thought. It was just Thorin. After a week of being freed from the stress of his position, his responsibilities as a king had returned tenfold. 

 

Stress did terrible things to people.

 

The little hobbit trudged through the treasure until she found a few more dwarves. At this rate it was going to take her hours to find and feed them all. 

 

“Bofur!” Called Llorabell as she headed towards the hatted miner. His brother was a few feet away. 

 

Bofur looked up at her from the pile of gold he was sifting through. He was chewing on the tip of his pipe. A pile of necklaces were dangling from his hat. Bofur beamed at her, completing the look. “Evening lass!”

 

Llorabell waved the bag of cram and called out as she climbed over to him. “I brought food!” Then his words registered in her mind. It wasn’t evening. Llorabell frowned at the dwarf.

 

The miner’s beam seemed to brighten even more, ignoring her frown. “I’d kiss ya if I didn’t think yer princeling would punch me eyes out!”

 

The hobbit squeaked out indignantly, his word distracting her. “M-y-my princeling!”

 

Bofur took the bag of cram before glancing over at Bombur. “Too soon?”

 

Bombur nodded sagely, “Too soon.”

 

“Ah.” Breathed Bofur before he casually stuffed his pipe into his coat and stuffed a piece of cram in his mouth. 

 

“What do you mean too soon!?” Llorabell demanded. Bofur waved his hands about, his cheeks puffing up dramatically in an imitation of a squirrel. Then he rumbled something indistinguishable.

 

Llorabell wrinkled her nose in disgust before looking over at Bombur. The dwarf simply smiled as he pulled some cram out for himself. “Is there much more?” The redhead asked as he peaked into the bag.

 

“Nah!” Cried Bofur, grabbing the bag back. “One per person!” Bombur sighed heavily before turning back to his pile of treasure. Llorabell reached out for the bag only for Bofur to twirl around and call out, “Bifur!” She nearly fell as her hand grabbed air.

 

The hobbit lass righted herself and turned after Bofur. She hadn’t noticed Bifur at all. She could ask about the Arkenstone. 

 

Bofur climbed up the hill of gold calling out as he went. “Bifur! Bifur!”

 

Honey eyes widened when she finally spotted the dwarf. Bifur was curled up in a large nest of crystals. None of the stone was carved. No gold or other treasure peaked out of the pile. 

 

Bofur clammered into the nest and, after failing to get Bifur’s attention, grabbed his cousin’s hand, pulled out a piece of cram, and stuffed it into the hand. The cram crumbled as Bifur fisted it.

 

“Ya gotta eat it.” Bofur commanded.

 

“Bofur...” Llorabell hesitated. “Is everything alright?”

 

The hatted dwarf glanced over at her and flashed an unconvincing smile. “It’s fine. All fine, lass.”

 

“Bofur.”

 

He huffed and tugged at his hat’s flaps. “He gets like this sometimes.” Bofur explained. The miner turned back to Bifur. The older dwarf was sniffing at the cram. “You eat it.” Bofur nodded when his cousin finally obliged and took a nibble. Then the miner came back over to Llorabell. “It’s the injury. Messes with his head.”

 

Llorabell shook her head. “I’ve seen it, this isn’t it.” She insisted.

 

Bofur pulled her around and away from Bifur’s nest. “The injury sometimes affects his stonesense. Sometimes he’ll hide himself round any uncut stone and gem he can. Usually he’d go to a natural cavern. Not sure why he hasn’t this time, less Erebor done been carved inside out.”

 

The hobbit lass worried his bottom lip. The natural cavern she had visited yesterday came to mind. There were natural caves still but there was a reason Bifur didn’t go to them. After witnessing the ease Bombur and Balin had climbing down to the caverns yesterday, Llorabell doubted he wasn’t going down there because it was difficult. “Could it be because the mountain is..is.. rakat?”

 

Bofur snorted before rumbling out, “Rakit… If ye’re going ta say words, ya need ta say them right least ya say something that ya didn’t mean ta say.” Bofur looked back at her, amusement glowing in his warm eyes. “Repeat. Rakit. Rah-kit.”

 

Llorabell frowned back at him but repeated as told. “Raakit. Rakit, rakit, rakit.” Bofur nodded after a moment of her repeating herself. The hobbit couldn’t help but ask. “What did I say before?”

 

“Don’t ya worry yer pretty little nose.” Bofur paused and gave her a long look. “Just don’t say it ever again.”

 

The hobbit sighed, “Fine..So..the mountain being...rakit isn’t cause for concern?”

 

“Not sure ya noticed but it ain’t looking all that hollow to me.” Bofur countered. 

 

The little lass heaved another sigh before plopping down onto a chest. “Bofur, you don’t have stonesense like Bifur. You don’t know what I mean when I ask about rakit.”

 

Bofur settled down besides her and took the waterskin from her. “Lass, ya were talking about rakit by the lake, not in the mountain.”

 

Llorabell rung a piece of her tunic. “Everything feels sick to me. Bifur was telling me rakit but I don’t know if he meant it the same way the sickness means.”

 

The miner pulled her to his side and gave an one armed hug. “It’ll be alright lass.”

 

She sniffed. “Dammit.” Llorabell rubbed an eye. “I’m crying again.”

 

“Maybe ya need a good cry.” Bofur said. 

 

Llorabell shook her head. The two sat together quietly and stared out into the gold. It reminded Llorabell of Lake-Town. She had been crying then too. Bofur pulled his pipe back out and chewed on the tip. All that was missing was the smell of home.

 

“Bofur.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you know anything about the Arkenstone? How it was found and all that?”

 

“Nah. Not from Erebor, never thought to ask.” Bofur said before asking in turn, “Ya know anything about this hollow sickness deal?”

 

Llorabell sighed. “Not enough.” Bofur hummed again in question, prompting her to explain. “The sickness starts on the western border of Mirkwood and continues all the way here. I was asked to sing the poison away. At least, that’s what the stones said. Poison, not a sickness but that doesn’t make any sense.” Llorabell looked over and up at the miner.

 

Bofur chewed on his pipe for a few minutes before finally saying, “Well, something poisoned isn’t done naturally, is it? It’s done on purpose, maybe accidentally.” Bofur nudged her slightly, “Ya got any ideas where ya need to sing? Or does it matter where? Do ya need to sing at a certain time?”

 

The hobbit lass stopped listening to Bofur after his first statement. Poison was done on purpose. It wasn’t natural. Llorabell growled in frustration at that; she didn’t even know where to start. The stone was too quiet here. Finally Llorabell noticed Bofur’s rambling, “Wha- a certain time?”

 

Bofur shrugged, “Like in spring or on Durin’s day, ya know.”

 

She shook her head. “No, no. I just need to find the source of the sick-poison. Then I sing to the source.”

 

“Right, any ideas where that’d be?”

 

Llorabell groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

 

“Take that as a no.” Bofur nudged her again, “It’s probably in Mirkwood. The elf king has been stinking up the place with some right vile farts in the privacy of his bed. That’d be where to start.” Llorabell peaked out from around her fingers at the dwarf, just in time to see him nodded to himself, “Always knew that’s how it was, too.”

 

The hobbit lass couldn't help it. She broke down laughing desperately. The laughter turned into tears and she was soon soaking Bofur’s side. 

 

A loud ding rang out.

 

“Whas that?” Slurred Llorabell as she rubbed her eyes in an attempt to dry them.

 

“That’ll be the glong telling us to leave the treasury. Technically for closing time but Balin’s used it a few times to get us all back into the camp.” Bofur explained as he pulled her up.

 

“Never heard it.” She said.

 

Bombur wandered down, dragging Bifur with him as Bofur shrugged. “Course not, it’s all built to keep the sound from bothering anyone outside the room.” Bofur waved his arm about at the stone columns and walls surrounding them. Then he turned to Bifur’s free side and helped guide him back the way she had originally come. 

 

Llorabell followed, eyes wandering over the walls and columns. There was a pattern in place that could, she guessed, disrupt sound. Or, perhaps they did it some other way.

 

Ori was the only dwarf in the camp when they entered. The young scribe rose from his slumped position. “The elves have come.” He waved his hand back toward the gates of Erebor. “They’re here. Everyone’s gone to the gates.”

 

They all quickly followed. Bifur seemed to regain some senses as he pulled away from his cousins and grabbed his spear up before heading out.

 

Bofur backpedaled, “Right, weapons. Can’t forget those.”

 

Llorabell nodded as she grabbed the gear she had pulled off before sleeping earlier. She hadn’t bothered putting any of it back on. 

 

“Don’t forget your armor.” Ordered Bombur.

 

Ori nodded as he wrung his hands together, “Yes, they’ve got bows.”

 

The hobbit lass sighed but quickly pulled the pieces of plate armor on before pulling her cape on top. By the time she was done, the others had already sprinted out. 

 

She entered the great entry hall just in time to see Thorin roar out some indiscernible khuzdul through one of the small openings in the temporary wall. Llorabell nearly ran over to the waiting company.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Kili leaned over to her and explained quietly, “Some stodge of the Lake Master has come to demand payment.”

 

Llorabell hesitated for a second before asking, “Well, don’t we owe them some?”

 

Thorin answered as he stomped over, fury glowed in his blue eyes. “They’ve come with an army of elves at their back, as I thought they would. I do not deal with threats.”

 

Llorabell stared at the king for a moment before glancing around at the others. None shows any sign of contradicting Thorin. They couldn’t be serious. Finally she spoke, “But…” The dwarves around her shifted at her words, “There’s only fourteen of us, Thorin.”

 

The fury faded from Thorin’s expression and amusement replaced it. “Do not underestimate us dwarves, Bilbo. Dain will be here soon and we will hasastherak zarasid-ukhrâb na azdun ganrur bad!” A smirk grew as he walked over and clapped her shoulder warmly, “Those elves will taste dwarven steel.”

 

“Couldn’t we just talk?”

 

“There is no use.” Thorin shook his head. “No, elves never listen. I would have you stay within the mountain, and I’m sure I speak for everyone here.”

 

“Now see here…”

 

“A war is no place for a lass.” Agreed Dwalin. “But ya would skewer us if we tried anything. That’s why Fili’s gotten you as geared up as possible.”

 

The warriors words broke the tension for the moment as the rest of the company gave their own thoughts on her going out to fight elves with them. 

 

Thorin roared out a few minutes later, “Back to the treasury! Fili stay low during your watch.”

 

Llorabell turned around in surprise. “Fili’s on watch?”

 

“Yes.” Kili answered as the others followed Thorin out.

 

“He was just on watch yesterday. I replaced him.” Llorabell said.

 

Kili nodded and said, “Yes” again. He glanced first after his uncle and back towards his brother before leaning over towards her. “Fili took over for Gloin and hasn’t let anyone take over since.” The young prince whispered. “You should talk to him.”

 

“I...alright but you have to help me.”

 

“With what?”

 

“You need to get everyone to eat. I’ve fed Thorin, Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur already.” Llorabell explained as she pushed the items into his arms.

 

Kili stared bemusedly down at the small metal cup before setting it to the side and nodding. “Yes ma’am!” Then the young prince sprinted off after the rest of the company.

 

Llorabell watched after him before straightening up and and marching to the wall. 

She found Fili leaning against some rocks that gave him a view of the elves without making him too large of a target. Fili was brooding. He had the same look he had on the boat when they had traveled over the lake.

 

“Fili?” She called out quietly as she approached. 

 

The prince looked sharply over at her. “Stay down”, were his first words. 

 

The hobbit lass crouched as she walked over to his seat. Fili pulled her down to his side. “You should be down below. It’s not safe here.”

 

Llorabell frowned at him, “The elves won’t shoot me.” 

 

Fili simply gave her a long flat look. Llorabell squirmed before changing the subject, “I saw you arguing with Thorin. What was it about?”

 

Her bonded stiffened at her side. “It’s none of your concern.” He said sharply. 

 

“Fili.” She scoffed.

 

Fili sighed, slumping “As you said, there is something wrong with that treasure. I was trying to convince Thorin of that fact, tried to get him to focus on the important things like food and winter and everything.” The prince rubbed his face, exhaustion peaking out, “The other mushroom caverns have been burned out just like the ones you checked. Balin guessed that Smaug did it to snuff out the dwarves stuck in Erebor.”

 

Silence stretched out for a few minutes. That was a terrible thought but made sense. There might have been a number of dwarves trapped when the gates fell and the only sure way of killing them all was to remove their food. “What now?” She asked. “If we have no foo-”

 

“You’ll leave.”

 

Llorabell snapped her head over to stare at him. “What?”

 

Fili stared with his jaw set in a stubborn line, “Leave.”

 

She frowned at him, “No.”

 

“Llorabell, war is no place for a hobbit.” He countered sharply. 

 

Her frown deepened and she felt herself stiffen, “I’ve done fine so far! I can fight.” Her conversation with Nori whispered in the back of her mind. Everything she had done so far was luck. 

 

Fili shook his head, “The elves won’t shoot you. You’ve said as much!” He grabbed her arm, “This is between elves and dwarves. There is no reason for a hobbit to get involved. You can go back to the Shire, find a nice hobbit lad to marry and have children with.”

 

Llorabell flinch, “No.”

 

He whispered out in desperation, “Please. Llorabell, please don’t stay.”

 

She didn’t listen to his desperate plea as her mind was stuck on his words before. “You know I can’t marry anyone. You’re the only one!” Tears swam into her eyes. “I-I… If you don’t want me you should have just told me! Not-not strung me along like you have!” 

 

Llorabell swung her fist out and smacked him in the chest in frustration. Fili caught it and pulled her into his lap. “I don’t want to lose you. Llor, please.” Fili pressed his forehead to hers, a hand settled to the back of her neck. “Please leave. I-I’ll convince Kili to go with you. That way you’ll both be safe. Then I’ll just have to protect Uncle.”

 

Fili’s words sliced through her sudden panic at his earlier words, words her bonded hadn’t meant it seemed. One thought prevailed. “Who’ll protect you?”

 

Fili’s hand tightened around her arm. Then the one holding her neck moved, tilting her head and Llorabell found lips pressed firmly to her own. Fili shifted so the press of lips turned and modeled to hers. 

 

All thoughts fell to the way side. Llorabell couldn’t help but melt against him. 

 

The kiss deepen. Soon it turned almost harsh, desperate as the two slid to the floor. Teeth clashed and tongues rubbed together. Fili’s hands slid over her waist. One arm wrapped around and pulled her flush while the other traced the curve of her rump. Their legs tangled.

 

“This ain’t the best place to be doing that.”

 

The two attempted to spring apart but only succeeded in falling to the ground in a pile of limbs. Llorabell pulled herself away from Fili as quickly as she could. Some of his hair caught into her mouth in the process. Looking up, Llorabell colored.

 

Dwalin stood leaning against the wall. A smirk graced his face. 

 

“I’m here to relieve ya lad. Though not in this particular activity, sadly.” Fili threw a rock at the guard while Llorabell simply turned a brighter red. 

 

Mortification rang through her. Llorabell’s first thought was to flee. She followed it, ignoring the teasing Dwalin continued to spew at Fili and her. The little hobbit fled the scene, flying down steps she would have taken great care in traveling if she had thought about them. But she didn’t think about it. Her mind was stuck on what had just happened.

 

She couldn’t believe Dwalin had walked in on them. She couldn’t believe they had been doing that on the wall. Her face grew hot again as she thought about it. The hobbit couldn’t believe that had happened at all.

 

It was a good few minutes before her mind was able to focus on anything else. Her heart finally calmed down as she sank down on some random set of stairs. With her thoughts collected, anger slowly boiled up. Fili had kissed her to shut her up, to end the conversation. Who was going to protect him?

 

“Hvakit.” Hissed Llorabell lowly. How dare he do that! Her cheeks puffed up a little. He’ll pay. She wasn’t leaving! She would tell Kili what had happened. He’d join in biting Fili’s head off. Sending her away like that!

 

With that thought in mind, the hobbit lass headed back to the camp and found Thorin pacing back and forth. He was slumped forward as he paced. 

 

“Thorin?” The dwarf glanced up at her for a moment before returning to pacing. “Is something the matter?” 

 

The dwarf king looked back before growling out, “Dwalin spotted the wizard. He has betrayed us, working with the enemy!”

 

“Gandalf?” Breathed Llorabell.

 

Thorin didn’t seem to hear her as he continued to ramble, “My own kin steal from me. The wizard who claimed to aid us in regaining Erebor has betrayed me.” He stomped over to her and whispered out, “You’re the only one who hasn’t. My niece-in-law.”

 

A lump caught in her throat, “Whose stolen from you?”

 

“How else do you explain their inability to find the Arkenstone?” He hissed out. “They’ve come to take my gold - here to steal the Arkenstone! Dare enter my mountain. Thieves all of them!”

 

Llorabell stared, the same words whispering in her mind but in the voice of Smaug. “Thorin, what do you know about dragons?”

 

His triad stalled at the question. “What?”

 

She licked her dry lips, “I know they treasure gold and gems above all else. I know that they are vain and weak to flattery. I don’t know much else, though.”

 

Thorin stared. Then he slowly straightened and the paranoia faded from his eyes. “I learned of them as a child, here before Smaug. They were created to destroy the dwarven clans for the bewitchment of Melkor could not claim us.” Thorin mulled over his words, “They are created by magic - from fire and brimstone, from the very earth we dwarves were crafted from. Some were given wings. Some could breath fire. All were, are, magical.” 

  
Thorin snapped her head over to her, his eyes suddenly sharp, “Never tell a dragon your name, for thy name holds power. Never...never..” The king frowned. “There was a whole list of things but I’ve forgotten them now.”

 

Had Smaug known Thorin’s name, she wondered hesitantly. Llorabell hesitated for a moment too long. Balin and Dwalin stomped in, followed by Gloin. “Gandalf has come to the gate. He’s asking to talk to you.” 

 

Thorin’s shoulders slumped slightly as he turned towards them, “Lies. All he ever says are lies. He wishes to have us open our hall to the elves. We will not be fooled!”

 

“Thorin.” Balin spoke, uncertainty clinging to his voice. “Lad.”

 

“Bring me the Arkenstone!” Snapped Thorin. “It is mine.”

 

“Would one of us keep it from you?” Balin asked. Dwalin stood stiff at his brother’s side. Gloin shifted back and forth uncertainly.

 

Llorabell watched as Thorin flashed a glare at them. “Am I not the king? The stone is my birthright! Bring it to me.” 

 

The king stomped away, “It belongs on my throne.”

 

Tears filled her eyes at Thorin’s treatment of his kin. The distrust was clear. His own kin were the enemy. She could give him the Arkenstone but Gandalf was just outside. He would be able to tell her if there was anything wrong and then she could bring it back, give it to Fili to give to Thorin.

 

Llorabell couldn’t convince herself to ignore the gut feeling that something was wrong with the stone. If she could, she would have given the stone to Thorin already. The hobbit closed her eyes for a moment before nodding to herself. She would slip out tonight or tomorrow and take the stone to Gandalf. 

 

Bombur’s belly jiggled as he snorted out one of his deep, rumbling snores. The rotund dwarf had been placed on guard duty in the middle of the night. Llorabell felt bad about how she had snuck some of Oin’s sleeping mixture into his alcohol but it had been three days, two days past her plan. She needed to see Gandalf. 

 

The hobbit clenched the pouch with the Arkenstone hidden within. She slipped out over the wall, using some rope to climb down. She was slightly hindered by her cape but was glad she had left the random pieces of platemail behind. What Fili didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

 

Llorabell straightened her clothes and the various weapons on her. Her hand glanced over the spike of diamond she had also brought. Her mind went to the elves she would be sneaking past. They might accept the diamond in trade to see Gandalf. Memory of their dungeon sprang to mind. Or they might simply take everything from her again. 

 

She snuck through the rumble, dodging from one rock pile to the next as she traveled to the elven camp. Gandalf had to be easy to find. He was the only wizard amongst an army of elves and a small group of men. All the same, it was surprisingly easy to find him. 

 

Llorabell spotted Gandalf standing at the edge of the army staring out towards Mirkwood. She sprinted over to him in relief. “Gandalf!”

 

The wizard looked sharply down at her. His stern look turned to surprised joy, “Bilbo Baggins, you are a sight for sore eyes! I had you gone in the Misty Mountains these many months past.”

 

The hobbit smiled helplessly up at him before remembering why she was here, “There’s no time Gandalf,” Llorabell pulled out the Arkenstone, “There’s something very wro-”

 

Gandalf grabbed her wrist, “That’s it! That exactly what we need. My dear hobbit, you are marvelous! And very, very brave.” The wizard dragged her into the army, “There is no time to wait, bringing it to me first! Foolish hobbit, there’s no time. No time.”

 

“Gandalf!” Llorabell cried but the wizard continued to ramble on about time as he dragged her into the camp, all the way to a large tent.

 

The wizard threw open the tent flap, careless in his pursuit of the guards stationed on either side. Llorabell’s eyes widen at the sight of the group of elves and men inside. She quickly hide behind Gandalf.

 

The elf King Thranduil stood with a group of four other important elves while the Lakemaster and his small entourage stood on the otherside. They were in a slight circle around a map. She didn’t need to look to know the map was of the area surrounding Erebor, maybe parts of the interior was even mapped out.

 

They were planning for war. 

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Demanded the Lakemaster, spitting and spluttering at their sudden entrance. Gandalf and the elves all ignored him.

 

Thranduil spoke lazily even as his eyes locked onto Llorabell behind Gandalf. “You’ve returned me one of my prisoners, istar. We have only thirteen more to retrieve.”

 

“Prisoner? This is my burglar! She is no prisoner and she has brought us a bargaining chip so we might focus on the more important matter at hand.” Gandalf countered.

 

“Wait-” Llorabell cried out but Gandalf spoke over her in his rush as he pulled out the Arkenstone. She hadn’t brought that to bargain with. She wouldn’t do that, not when she knew the full importance of the object and the untrustworthy nature of the Mirkwood elves. Certainly, not even the men of the lake deserved such a bargaining chip. They did deserve their pay but they could very well sod off till Spring at least!

 

“This is yours to give to us?” Breathed one of the men. 

 

“No-”

 

“Of course not, it’s not yours to keep. Use it to get Thorin to listen so we all can work together.” Gandalf huffed. “The time is short. There is little time to spare!”

 

“Wizards.” Thranduil spoke as he reached out and picked up the Arkenstone before looking up at the Lakemaster. Llorabell couldn’t help but stare down at the gold ring on his hand. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.”

 

“Not this time.-”

 

“I’ve heard enough.” Thranduil ordered, cutting Gandalf off. “I will use this to force a bargain with the king under the mountain. What comes after is none of my concern.” 

 

The elf king swept out of the tent. The entourage of elves and Gandalf rushed after him. The wizard crying out about Thranduil not leaving the world on its own.

 

Llorabell stood staring in shock. Then a hand grabbed her by the waist. 

 

“What!” She gasped in surprise.

 

The hobbit twisted to get out of the grasp but quickly found herself being held by two men. 

 

“The elf gets the King’s stone but I’m left with nothing!” Cried the Lakemaster. His eyes flashed over her with a scowl. “What have you brought me to trade?! Where is my compensation?”

 

“I’ve done so such thing!” Llorabell spat back before she tried to twist out of the men’s grip but found that quite impossible as one of the men lifted her fully off the ground and the other grabbed onto her legs. She was able to knock one of the men away by kicking out into his face but another man took his place. 

 

Her actions caused the diamond spike to fall from her waist. Llorabell watched upside down, her heart in her throat as the Lakemaster took the spike up greedily. 

 

“Look!” Breathed the stodge. Llorabell twisted around to see what he was pointing at. The Lakemaster made a pleased noise even as Llorabell voiced a complaint, “That’s not-” 

 

“Shut her up!” Order the master as he discarded the diamond and rushed over to grab her ankle. A dirty cloth was stuffed in her mouth and a hand covered it to keep her from spitting the cloth out.

 

Llorabell struggled as the Lakemaster tugged and twisted her anklet around. “This is more like it! Gold. I deserve gold. Where’s the latch?”

 

The obese man spat out again as he tugged, “Where’s the bloody latch!?”

 

The stodge spoke up in his oily voice, “It must be here somewhere. Let me have a look your Excellence!” 

 

The hobbit lass could do nothing as the men debated over her undnum, twisting and turning it as they went. Finally one of the men gave a sharp yank and Llorabell felt the anklet break off. The men holding her let go and she dropped to the floor. Looking up, the hobbit watched helplessly as the Lakemaster clutched her now broken anklet in his hand and gushed, “Edward will be able to melt this down and craft a fine broach. I think I’d like a broach.”

 

“It’ll look most excellent on you Master.” Agreed the stodge.

 

Llorabell pushed herself up quickly, “You cannot take that! That’s mine. It’s not for bargaining for fulfilling payments. It’s not even part of the dwarven treasury!”

 

The master sneared down at her. “I’ll take it as payment all the same. It is what I’m due.” He turned to his men and waved dismissively at her, “Do what you will with her. I’m sure one of you always wanted to try out a dwarf woman. Though who knows what diseases she has, being passed around so many dwarves.”

 

Her eyes widened as the stodge glanced over at her, his eyes moving up and down. Llorabell grabbed her diamond spike and put it between her and them as she backed up. In her panic she didn’t think of the weapons she had on her that would be more useful. The diamond had killed a dragon after all.

 

“My Lord Thranduil requested I collect the hobbit.”

 

The men shifted away from her as the elf stepped fully into the room. Llorabell couldn’t believe how glad she was in seeing an elf before. She tucked the diamond into her belt and quickly stepped around the men to the elf.

 

The Lakemaster spoke up with a simpering tone, “Would you be so kind as to inform your king we are leaving. This all is between you and the dwarves. We’ll have no part. We’ve gotten our payment as you’ve gotten your bargaining chip.”

 

The elf clasped a hand on Llorabell’s shoulder, “Bargaining chips.”

  
Llorabell couldn’t help but breathe out a startled “Oh” at realizing just what position she was in. She had no qualms in blaming Gandalf. Fili was never going to forgive her for this one. She should have remembered her platemail. He’d have one less thing to (deservedly) complain about after all of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:  
> Lu'rayadê id-ahfâr bêthmi! = No heir of mine will stand divided with me!  
> Zu'agbul yâsith und ùna galzur. = You will make an excellent wife and queen one day.  
> hasastherak zarasid-ukhrâb na azdun ganrur bad! = skewer the tree shaggers with their own bows  
> rakit = hallow
> 
>  
> 
> Hobbitish:  
> undnum = heart guiding charms  
> Hvakit = bastard
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know if I missed a set of words that need translations.
> 
> \--- 
> 
> So I do apologize for the extremely long wait. It's been crazy and it will likely be at least 2 months before the next update. I will try to update Lost and Found within the next two weeks. I have next Sunday set as my planned day to respond to you epic comments everyone gives me. So please be patent in general. Hopefully things get straightened out sooner than later.
> 
> For anyone that wants the details it's fairly simple. I've been working at a start up for the last few years and am in fact one of the founding members. We've hit a huge rough patch and I am now officially unemployed though I'm still helping keep the company from totally dieing at the moment (all but 1 had to become unemployed). Best case I'll get reemployed soon, worse case I get to hunt for a job.
> 
> I have also been having major migraines for a while now. They've increased in frequency but I'll working on figuring them out. They aren't so bad I'm throwing up but I cannot stare at bright lights, including computer screens. So my writing time gets cut to nothing some days.
> 
> Last, my puppy has been having issues with his anal sacks and I actually have to take him to the vet tomorrow as he poops a large amount (for a tiny little guy) of blood today. 
> 
> With my unemployment I am also focusing more fully on writing things I can make some small amount of income with. So I am working on a few short stories. If any of you read magazines etc with short stories I'd love to know the names of them. I haven't spent too much time hunting around for where all I could potentially submit the short stories yet.
> 
> Anyway, Cheers (and merry Spring)
> 
> NovusArs


	14. Battle of Erebor

Chapter 14: Battle of Erebor

  
  


It was a crisp morning with snowflakes lazily floating in the cold air. The ground was dark and looked to have recently frozen from a muddy state. Llorabell made a slight noise of discomfort as the horse sped up slightly to keep up with the elf king’s moose. The ground blurred before her eyes from the new speed before Llorabell grew comfortable to it again or as comfortable as one could get tied like a sack over a horse’s rear.

 

She could just make out her weapons tied besides her. The diamond spike hung from the moose’s saddle across from her. The only thing they had let her keep on her person was the mithril shirt, and her chain gloves and cape. And that was only to make sure she’d be harder to kill if things came to blows.

 

Llorabell shivered as a cold winter wind blew across them, picking up snowflakes and sending them swirling around her head. The elves had waited until the sun had peaked out above Ravenhill. Then they had set out. Llorabell, the elf in charge of her, Thranduil, and, from what she could see, another guard riding a horse flanking the king’s other side rode in the middle of the army as it marched on the mountain. Only a squadron stayed within the ruins of Dale. 

 

It took an hour for the army to reach Erebor’s gates in formation. Thranduil guided his moose through the parting squadron in front and the horse Llorabell was tied to followed. The sound of something metallic hitting the ground snapped her head past the moose’s rear. An arrow protruded from the ground a few feet in front of them, just before the bridge to Erebor’s destroyed gates. 

 

“The next will be between your eyes!” Roared out Thorin’s voice followed by taunting calls from the rest of the company.

 

Llorabell made a disquieted noise through the gag in her mouth. Thorin sounded surprisingly calm with an elven army at his doorstep. The creaking of hundreds of elves pulling out their bows and arrows drew her head around to see the squadron behind them aiming at the gate. The dwarven taunting stopped as suddenly as the elves had drawn their weapons. 

 

“I’ve come to inform you that payment for your debt has been offered...and accepted.” Thranduil called out. Llorabell turned back towards the front and strained to see what was happening.

 

“What payment? What debt, for that matter?” Thorin called out. “I gave you nothing. You hold claim over nothing.”

Thranduil moved and suddenly his hand held up the Arkenstone. “I have this.” He said succinctly before nodding to his left, towards her guard. The dwarves roared out in outrage at the sight of the stone. 

 

“That is the stone of our forebears!”

 

“How came you by that!”

 

“Thieves!”

 

Her guard tugged on the ties keeping her in place on the horse. Then, even as the dwarrow continued crying out in outrage, he grabbed the rope connecting her wrists to her ankles and lifted her up. The elf’s hold on the rope was high, leading to Llorabell being lifted up so she was mostly up right. Her feet and legs were pulled up behind her and her arms strand from the awkward angle. 

 

“And this.” Added Thranduil, nodding at her. 

 

Sudden silence stretched out. The dwarven cries of outrage were stemmed at the sight of her. The hobbit lass was just able to look up high enough to spy the company across the wall. Grim and outraged expressions were written across their faces. 

 

Finally Thorin spoke up, “How came you by them?”

 

“Gifted to me as payment.” The elf king spoke up again, giving a slight bow of his head, “Of course, I am willing to barter this payment for another...One I hold greater interest in possessing.”

 

Gandalf’s voice roared out from behind, interrupting any response from Thorin. “Thranduil, I did not give you the Arkenstone for your greed! Nor is my burglar your’s to barter with!” Llorabell couldn’t turn to see the wizard but hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, she would be released. The elf holding her up lowered her slightly as he turned in his saddle to regard Gandalf. “There is a far greater issue at hand! You will heed my words!”

 

Thranduil turned his head and gave a sneer, “You were the one to bring both to me. And the one to leave your burglar with men who were prepared... to enjoy her.” Llorabell flushed as the king glanced over at the elf still holding her up, “Isn’t that right?”

 

“They seemed to think she was a _dwarf_ woman but yes-”

 

“Quiet!” Snapped Gandalf, “This is a fool’s action with an army of orcs coming!”

 

Llorabell’s heart stopped at his words. That was what he had been telling the elf king about last night? Was the king insane or simply too foolish to pay mind to a wizard’s warning?

 

The burglar strained against her ropes so she could look at the company once more. She wasn’t able to see high enough. A dark shadow passed the very edge of her vision, though. And Llorabell realized that whatever it was had caught the attention of the elves, who had turned back towards the mountain.

 

Thranduil called out blandly, blatantly ignoring Gandalf, “Well King Under the Mountain, will you barter? Or shall I barter this pretty  dwarf woman to the Master of Esgaroth?” He glanced down at her before adding, “I shall keep the gem if you don’t wish to barter for it. Put it on my own throne even.”

 

Llorabell couldn’t see Thorin but she could hear him, “Never! You will have nothing from me, Oathbreaker! It will be war!” His breathing was hard enough for her to hear it as he paused, “It is war!”

 

A thundering like sound rumbled out. Thranduil glanced to his right before calling out in elvish. Then he sneered back at Gandalf as he laughed mockingly out, “I have found your orc army!” The king then turned to the elf holding her and tossed the Arkenstone to him, “Take them back to the woods. I will not have them lost.”

 

The elf bowed as he caught the gem and tucked it into his tunic, “My liege.” Llorabell squeaked through her gag as she was neatly tossed onto the back of the horse like a sack of oats. She had the perfect view of gleaming armor on the mountain’s right arm before she could only see ground and legs again. It took her a moment to realize what she saw had been an dwarven army. 

 

Dain had come.

 

“Now see here!” Shout Gandalf. “You’ll unhand my burglar- Oh, confound elves and dwarves! Stop this at once! Stop, you will not fight each other!”

 

Llorabell heard her name called out in the distance as the elf pushed his horse into a steady and rather uncomfortable gallop. The elven army parted for them and soon they were passing the ruins of Dale. The hobbit wasn’t sure how long they traveled but it felt like forever before the ruins vanished behind a hill and they turned towards Mirkwood, the lake just coming into view.

 

Dread sang in her head. She was going back into that forsaken wood.

 

A wooden pole sprouted from the horse’s flank inches for her eyes. Llorabell had enough time to gasp at the sight of it. Then, next she knew it, she was on the ground. The elf’s head rested at her side. His body rested in a crumbled, uncomfortable mess a few feet passed her. Horse blood covered Llorabell, already clouting and drying into a sticky mess. 

 

The hobbit forced herself to look past the gore to try and spy what had attacked them. They were on a ridge. The shiny, sparkling hint of the lake gleamed out at her from the view. Mockingly speaking of a rather nice early winter day. 

 

Hulking masses moved below the ridge, covering the sparkling view. It took a moment to realize it was an army of orcs, goblins, and wargs. She could spy a troll even. Above the army were clouds and clouds of bats. From a distance it would look like a winter storm was traveling across the sky. What she could see of the group, they traveled in a haphazard formation, heading for the mountain.

 

The elf couldn’t have seen the army until right when they had crested the ridge they laid on now. The hobbit lass couldn’t help but wonder if the elf had had a chance to even notice any of it before he had lost his head.

 

Llorabell’s mouth was dry and she stared in shock, too busy staring at the sight to think of moving. The crunching of gravel had her still further, holding her very breath in terror. Her heart hammered as whomever had killed the elf walked towards them. All she could do was stay perfectly still, eyes staring past the elf body and towards the orc army, and hoping whatever was walking towards her mistakenly thought she was dead. 

 

A large white orc stepped into her view. He smacked the elf body over onto its back with his multi-ridged mace. The Arkenstone fell from the headless body’s tunic. Her heart pounded in her ears as the white orc picked the glowing stone up. 

 

Another orc stepped into her view and growled out something. She recognized one word. Bolg. The goblins of the Misty Mountains had spoken of a Bolg.

 

The white orc, possibly Bolg, stuffed the Arkenstone into his belt. The stone’s glow reflected off gold. It took only second for Llorabell to recognize her anklet. How did the orc get that? After another moment of speaking in their guttural tongue, they left. 

 

She had somehow survived when she shouldn’t have. It took some time before the hobbit was able to move. Terror gripped her. The headless body lying a few feet away hit her hard. Not even a dragon had stopped her cold like this had. 

 

It reminded her of the Fell Winter.

 

Screams whispered the back of her mind as old memories best forgotten began to emerge. The hobbit lass closed her eyes to try and forget. Now wasn’t the time to remember her parents deaths. There was an orc army headed to the mountain.

 

That thought pushed her to finally move, which reminded her of her predicament. She was still tied up by the wrists and ankles. The hobbit found herself twisting and rolling through blood soaked ground trying to find something to cut her ties with. When she did reach something, one of her own weapons still tied to the horse’s saddle, she nearly cut herself on it instead of the ropes. 

 

Llorabell took her weapons and secured them back on her waist, ignoring the tremor running through her body, ignoring the blood covering her form, ignoring the body on the ground a few feet away. She wanted to be sick but she ignored it. There was an army of orcs heading to Erebor. 

 

The smell of burning wood, reminiscent of campfires, reached her through the coppery scent of blood and the sweet reak beginning to come from the elven and horse corpses. The hobbit hesitated for a moment before pulling out her elvish blade (which wasn’t glowing for the moment) and walked further down the path towards the lake and where the wind was blowing from. 

 

The remains of Esgorath came into view. It was a distance away but it was clearly a smoldering ruin. The smoke still rising from it dissipated in the air before it reached too high. A small army of orcs were moving amongst the ruins and the shoreline near it.

 

Tears stung her eyes as she thought of all the death. The white orc had her charms which meant he must of killed the Master and his entourage. There was likely no man within a hundred leagues around. 

 

Fili and the rest would be next.

 

Her expression hardened at that thought. She wiped her tears and turned back the way she had come. She would do whatever she could to keep that from occurring.

 

 

It took hours for the hobbit to reach an outcropping and spy the Ruins of Dale and the battle. She didn’t have an elvish horse to carry her swiftly over the land. She could only be glad that was similarly true about the orc army, even if their longer legs allowed them to travel far quicker.

 

Her blade glowed now at the presences of orc close enough for it to sense. She just needed to run down the hill and she would enter the battle. From her angle she could see how widespread the armies were. The battlefield was horrifying. 

 

She tightened her grip on her little blade as she watched the battle. After a few minutes of staring at the carnage, she began to understand the field. The dwarven army fought at the foot of the mountain and still held claim to the right hilly arm that would allow them to retreat towards the Iron Hills if needed. Small pockets of elves fought alongside those dwarves. 

 

To the other arm of the mountain, where Ravenhill stood, the rest of the Elven army resided. This army was attacking everyone - orc and dwarf - indiscriminately but was also standing firm on the mountainous arm, focusing on their bow and arrows over entering the battle fully. 

 

Most of the orc army focused on the dwarves standing between them and Erebor. Groups of orcs veered off towards the elven army. Some still purposely rushed through Dale to close off that avenue of protection the city walls could have garnered the elves or dwarves.  

 

There was no way she could find Fili in the chaos. All she knew was he was somewhere ahead of her. Tears stung her eyes and her tight grip on her blade loosened. Was there any hope? What could she do to help them? She was just a small hobbit and it was winter.

 

Her face hardened. It might be winter but it was worth a try.

 

Llorabell dropped to her knees. “Please.” She breathed out in the earthen tongue. The hobbit pressed her hand to the sick and silent land. “Please help us.”

 

The ground did not answer but the hobbit continued to try and get it to respond. There was little hope of her making any difference in the battle below if she could not get the earth’s aid. “Please help. Please help.” She muttered in a desperate mantra. “Please help.”

 

Tears stung her eyes as she slowed her pleading. She stared down at the silent ground and whispered brokenly, “Please help. Please, I’m trying to help you with the poison. I swear. I just don’t understand what is poisoning you and I can’t help you if the land falls to orcs!”

 

Llorabell dropped her head down onto the earth as defeat filled her. The earth slept during winter. She shouldn’t be so devastated it hadn’t answered. The little hobbit lass’s shoulders slumped as she accepted that fact. She sat up with slumped shoulders.

 

Honey eyes swept over the battlefield once more. She had to help somehow. The white orc came into her sight for a second before the battle shifted and his position was lost. The hobbit stared at where she had just saw him.

 

She’d get the heart of the mountain back.

 

Llorabell could do that. It was her fault it wasn’t in the mountain in the first place. She just needed to get it back from the orc. 

 

The hobbit lass contemplated the battle for a moment more before heading in the direction of Dale. Dale was the least claimed by the battle. It would be the best way to make towards Erebor - skirting most of the battle instead of wading through the middle of it. She should be able to spy where the white orc had gone from the high eastern gates. 

 

She traveled as quickly as she could, pulling out one of her galurim to hold in her dominant hand while carrying the elvish blade in the other. As she neared the city edge, the hobbit paused for a moment to steady her heart and calm her breath before she began to sing the song to go unseen. It didn’t work perfectly, any warg would be able to smell her covered in horse blood and all, but it would allow her to go unseen by most and she would hopefully make it through the ruins unimpeded. 

 

The roar of the battle reached an violent octave as she entered the ruins. The clash of metal against metal, the sounds of screams and battle cries rang all around her, echoing off the stone walls. Llorabell tried to ignore the sounds of the dying. She kept her eyes away from the bloating corpse of elves and orcs scattered across the streets. 

 

The hobbit turned a corner and was forced to dodged around the charge of a troll as it headed towards one of the walls. Glancing up revealed a small group of elves shooting from high up. Orcs were climbing up the wall towards them. The troll were distracting them. Llorabell hesitated before turning and continuing to run. Those elves were trapped but they were skilled warriors. They would make it. They would.

 

She ran down the street and foolishly directly into a battle filled square. Llorabell screamed, cutting off her song as a goblin lunged out at her direction. She stabbed her glowing blade out. It slide into the goblin’s gut even as a long sword swung over her head decapitating the creature. 

 

Llorabell twisted around and met the wide eyes of the elf behind her before she dodge around his reach and start up her song for a second time, becoming hidden to the eyes of all within the square. It did little to help this time. Orc and elf had seen her appear and disappear. They had seen which direction she was heading and both moved to catch her. 

 

The burglar spent ages dodging swords, stabbing orcs, dancing around elven hands, and moving in every direction but the one she needed to go. Her feet stepped on bodies, into puddles of blood, and stumbled over sharp weapons as she struggled to not cut herself. There was no way she could keep up her song. Instead she sang in bursts when she could, hiding for seconds before she needed to take a breather or was forced to stop as she focused on not being stabbed through.

 

A mountain troll crashing through a building finally gave her the break she needed to pass through the congested square. She stumbled to a halt, breathing harshly, at the entrance leading towards Erebor. As she had hoped, the height of the gate allowed her to see more of the battle. But it not enough to spy the white orc. 

 

The hobbit blinked back tears. The stench, the gore, the exhaustion, the thrum of adrenaline. It was too much. But she couldn’t stop. Stopping would mean death.

 

Llorabell tried to swallow some spit but she had little. Her throat ached from the continuous singing. She shifted her grip on her bloody weapons and plowed on, keeping to the edge of the battle as she forced her cracking voice to start the song once more. 

 

Get the stone and then get to Fili. Then, after the battle was won, give the stone to Thorin. Find Fili again. Sleep.

 

Her blades flashed as she stabbed and slashed through orcs, goblins, and wargs unseen. There was no way to tell how long it took but keeping to the edge of the main battle slowly lead her to Ravenhill and the Elven army. And Thranduil. 

 

She was pushed up on the hillside as she traveled, slowing reaching high enough to see most of the battle once more. When more elves than orcs were closest to her, Llorabell paused. Her honey eyes swam over the battlefield. Things had changed.

 

The gray pointed hat of Gandalf wasn’t far off, headed towards the center of the battle. The elves had dispersed out into the field, taking up blades in replacement of their depleted arrows. The ones still fighting on Ravenhill were lead by the young elf that had come to speak to her when she was captive. A circlet sat on his helmet. He had to be a son of Thranduil. Or perhaps a nephew. A sister’s son.

 

Her eyes snapped from the closet elves. She didn’t have time for that.

 

Thranduil was fighting the white orc’s guards at the near center, mere steps to the gates of Erebor. The gates were blown open. The dwarrow army had pushed further inland, few still stood on the hilly arm to protect their flank. A group of dwarrow, thirteen strong, were leading a section of the dwarrow army towards Thranduil and Bolg. 

 

Fili. Thorin. Nori. Kili. Everyone. She clenched her fists around her weapon’s handles, the chain glove clinking against the bite of the galurim. Everyone was out, fighting for their lives. She needed to get there.

 

Llorabell ran back into the fray, using the hiluaind to head towards Fili. She only made it a few yards before a warg veered off from a pack attacking the elves and charge towards her, smelling her even if it couldn’t see her. 

 

She dodged its lunge. Her elvish blade slashed out as her breath caught in her throat, cutting short her song. The warg lunged a second time. Her other arm shot up, the galurim catching the warg’s teeth, bulking under the weight as the monster bore down. 

 

Another sword slashed out, cutting the warg’s throat. Honey eyes looked up into bright blue. The elf with the circlet nodded at her before speaking, “Your loyalty is truly commendable but a battlefield is no place for you.”

 

“I have to help. I’m not going to hide when I can help.” She rasped out.

 

The blond elf nodded, pulled out a waterskin, and tossed it to her. “Very well. Where are we headed?” More elves moved around them, surrounding them as Llorabell sniffed at the liquid in the skin. “It is not poisoned. I carry it for myself after all, halfling.”

 

Llorabell took a sip and tried to ignore the feeling of being trapped once more. Blessed water filled her mouth. She couldn’t help the slight widening of her eyes as the feel of the liquid. She gulped down more, drinking long after her throat was wet and the ache of singing off and on for hours faded.

 

A piece of flat bread was stuffed into her mouth as soon as the waterskin was out of the way. The hobbit made a protesting noise but did what she could to stuff the rest in without using her blood soaked hands. Her arms and shoulders were only slightly better off but Llorabell firmly ignored any coppery flavor parts of the bread had. She hadn’t had anything to eat since before she went to see Gandalf last night. 

 

Once she had eaten the bread, Llorabell squashed any feeling of being trapped, surrounded by elves as she were, and pointed in the direction where she knew Fili was. He had been heading towards the white orc “That way.”

 

The elf nodded once more. “Very well.” He called out in sindarin and they were off. The elves kept Llorabell firmly tucked in the middle of their group as they followed her directions. Unlike the hobbit, the elves had no issue cutting a straight line in the direction they wanted to go. 

 

They traveled quickly through the battlefield until a troll charged at their group. The elf prince grabbed Llorabell, pulling her out of its path. It’s charge effectively cut the group in half. Two large orcs attacked her half of the group as the troll attacked the other half. More orcs and wargs swarmed them. There was no time to think of regrouping.

 

Llorabell blocked a blade. The blond elf cut the goblin’s head off for her. He twisted around her with two other elves. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the time Fili hadn’t let her help fight wargs. The hobbit lunged forward towards an opening, sword out to stab at an orc’s leg. She didn’t make it. An elf yanked her back to the center of their tiny circle before she could. Annoyance flashed through her. She was perfectly capable of helping stab things.

 

One of the elves cursed. Llorabell twisted around to see if she could help. A bloody spear slammed down through the elf’s chest and stopped a foot from her face. She stepped to the side as the spear dipped and burrowed into the ground, lifting the dying elf off his feet. 

 

A large orc grinned at her. Behind him, Thranduil and Bolg fought. An elf yanked her out of the way as the grinning orc lunged at her. Llorabell pulled out of the elf’s grip. She snapped her elvish blade forward, just like Dwalin taught her. It bite into the orc’s side. It’s arm shot up as the orc twisted towards her. She dodged it. The mace in the orc’s other hand slammed into her chest. Llorabell went flying to the side. 

 

Any air still in her lunge escaped as she hit the ground. An armored boot stepped into her view. She gasped for air as she lifted her head and met the dark eyes of King Thranduil. He turned away from her. “You would disobey me?”

 

Llorabell thought he was speaking to her for a moment. But then a guttural voice snapped out, “You are no master.”

 

The hobbit rolled over. The white orc stood sneering at the elf king. Thranduil stood uncaring even though the small circle they stood in was surrounded by orcs. Dwarves and elves could be seen trying to make their way over, the closest being the elves Llorabell had been traveling with. Llorabell forced herself to stand, her eyes jumping around, heart pounding in her ears. Her blades were lost on the field. The hobbit pulled out another galurim and her mother’s dagger. 

 

There was no way she’d be able to watch all the orcs surrounding them. She was as good as dead. The only thing keeping the army back was the fancy of the white orc.

 

“Not your master?” Thranduil lifted a hand and causally twisted the golden ring on his finger. He looked back at Bolg. “No, I suppose not.”

 

Bolg tilted his head, his eyes locked on the ring. He grinned after a moment, “A trade.” He pulled out the Arkenstone. “A Heart for the Ring.”

 

Llorabell hissed even as Thranduil chuckled, “What use do I have for a glowing stone?” He shook his head in amusement as he said, “That is no proper trade, orc. But perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

 

The hobbit lass stared at the elf king. What elf made agreements with orcs?

 

“Fool elf.” Snapped the orc, his fist clenched the stone then he dropped it to the ground. Llorabell turned her stare at the orc as it lifted it’s mace up, revealing the pointed handle. “It is the heart for the ring or nothing.”

 

Thranduil snorted in amusement. Bolg sneer sharpened. He twisted his grip on his mace and shot the pointed handle down towards the heart.

 

**“MÂIN!”**

 

Llorabell reacted to the scream. Her galurim flew. Bolg jerked back as it bite into his shoulder. The large orc yanked the circular blade out and stared at her for a moment. He tossed her blade to the side and turned back to the Arkenstone.

 

No. The hobbit’s heart jumped to her throat. The stone couldn’t be destroyed. Every instinct screamed that fact. This was more than needing to get the stone back to Thorin. It was more than her pride. She just knew that it would be very bad if the orc succeeded. She ran.

 

Llorabell heard Thranduil as he made an amused sound as she ran at the orc. He was content to wait until the orc leader was ready to listen to what he truly wanted. A glowing stone was the least of his desires. That hvakit.

 

The stone screamed again. The earth under her feet joined in it’s scream.  **“MÂIN!”**

 

Bolg paused as he watched her rush towards him. Llorabell lunged with her mother’s dagger. It bent under Bolg’s mace. The metal cracked. Llorabell reached for another blade, one of her axes. Bolg’s mace slammed into her chest before she could pull it out. 

 

The hobbit jerked as the blow threw her backwards, pain blooming across her chest, but the orc’s free hand grabbed her cap, keeping her from flying away from him. Bolg threw her to the ground. He twisted the mace around and lunged down with the spiked end.

 

A boar spear caught the handle and pushed the mace aside. The spike slammed into the ground by her shoulder. Llorabell rolled away. Bolg grabbed her leg and yanked her up as he stood. The spear sliced into the orc’s arm holding her. She dropped to her knees. 

 

The spear bearer forced Bolg back. Llorabell rose, turning in a circle in search of the stone. The orc kicked the Arkenstone behind him as he blocked a lunge from the dwarf. Bifur.

 

She was grabbed by the wrist. Llorabell snapped around, her hand flying out to grab onto what grabbed her. Thranduil stared down at her. “What a silly creature. Every time you get burned, you get back up.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Let us see you get up from this.”

 

Llorabell kicked out. Her foot hit platemail. Tears stung her eyes as her foot protested. The elf lifted her up off the ground and called out, “Orc, you want her?”  Bifur twisted around. His eyes widened at her before blocking a blow from the orc. “You can have her. A sign of good will.”

 

Bolg laughed as he twisted around Bifur’s spear and body slammed the dwarf to the side. Thranduil lifted her higher. She clawed out with her gloved hand but to no avail. 

 

“Father!” Someone cried out as Llorabell was tossed towards the orc. She landed hard on her back. Her hands flew up as Bolg lunged down with his spear. Her eyes closed.

 

Something landed hard on her legs. A groan snapped her eyes back open. Bifur laid over her, his hands holding him up over her even as pressure pushed down from above. The spiked handle split Bifur’s armor open as it was pushed through the dwarf’s chest. The spike was pushed down until the tip pressed into her own. The mithril shirt kept it from piercing her but didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling of it pressing into her as it attempted to pierce the metal. Pain stabbed outward from her chest as it dug deeper.

 

“Bifur,” she gasped. Tears stung her eyes as the dwarf flashed a pained grin at her. The spike vanished. Blood gushed out, spilling across Llorabell. The dwarf crumbled on top of her, forcing the air out of her from the sudden weight. “Bi..f..ur.” She gasped out as she took shallow breaths. The dwarf made no move.

 

Llorabell pushed at Bifur as the edge of her sight began to darken. “Y..ou...mo..v..e.” 

 

A goblin yanked Bifur off her and lifted a curved knife with a grin. An arrow sprouted from it’s throat. Llorabell gasped for air as she sat up, ignoring the pain from her chest.

 

“Bilbo!” Kili knelt at her side as he yanked his arrow free. It was his last, his quiver empty. “We need to get you out of here.”

 

“Kili?” Llorabell stared at the prince as her mind caught up with her. “Bifur!” She turned, her hand reaching out to the fallen dwarf. 

 

Kili caught her hand. “Bilbo, he’s gone.”

 

Llorabell shook her head, “No, no he was just...” The hobbit lass stilled as she got a good look of Bifur. There was no way he could still be alive. “No.” She breathed.

 

“Lass, can ya get up?” Demanded Gloin as he and Dwalin took up guard over her and Kili. 

 

“I-I.” She snapped her eyes away from the body. “Yes, I think so.” Kili reached out and pulled her up. Llorabell looked around them. Tremors ran through her, Bifur’s last grin replyed over and over again. It took her a whole minute to realize Kili was talking to her. She paid him no mind as her focus was drawn to the right.

 

Fili and Thorin were fighting together. Fili was guarding Thorin’s back as the dwarf king fought Bolg. Everything slowed down as she watched Bolg throw Thorin to the side with a well placed blow of the mace. 

 

The orc didn’t follow the fallen king. He rushed towards Fili’s back. Thorin pushed off his feet and charged after him. The roar of “Fili!” falling from his lips. 

 

She could hear Kili’s screaming at his brother. Her hand shot up as Fili looked up at them, hearing Kili’s scream. Blue met honey. Fili’s eyes widened and he turned around. He was moving too slow. Words rushed to the forefront of her mind. Llorabell screamed, “Moar Evunal!”

 

Bolg roared as a circular blade buried into his side. It didn’t break the orc from it’s charge. Fili crumbled backwards as the force of the mace sent him to the ground. Bolg yanked the galurim out of his side with another roar. The orc took one look at the blade and snapped his gaze over to her.

 

The white orc snarled out something and two large orcs step from the semi circle the vile army had kept around their leader. One met Thorin. The other headed towards the downed Fili. 

 

Llorabell ran, pulling out one of her axes as her eyes locked on the orc heading towards Fili. Kili ran at her side. She could hear Gloin and Dwalin cursing as they tried to follow while still protecting their backs. A mantra of “No, No, No” rang in her head. 

 

She threw her axe as soon as she was close enough. The blade was blocked but stopped the orc from attacking Fili, who was struggling up to his feet still. She pulled out another axe. Kili shot his last arrow.

 

“ **MÂI-”** , screamed out, cutting off as  the ground shook. Llorabell stumbled, her head shooting to the scream: The Arkenstone. Bolg knelt over it, his spiked handle stabbed straight through the heart. The white orc smirked directly at her as the stone flickered and died.

 

**“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”** The world screeched all around her. 

 

Warmth she had never noticed faded from the ground under her feet. An itch slowly grew. She needed to get away from this ground. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

 

An giant eagle swept down, sending the orcs fleeing. A great bear lunged off the eagle and onto Bolg. The orc’s head went flying. 

 

Dwalin blocked her view, kneeling in front of her. She was on the ground. She was screaming. The dwarf brushed a hand across her face. She was crying.

The screeching wouldn’t stop.

  
The warrior grimaced at her. Then the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbitish:  
> galurim - ring, circular blade  
> hiluaind - heartguide  
> hvakit - bastard  
> MÂIN - Stop  
> Moar Evunal - Swift Return
> 
> Soo....hope this met your expectations. One more chapter for this part of the story.
> 
> Also! Lidoshka made me this wonderful piece of art, check it out! -> http://fav.me/d8s6rje


	15. A Broken Heart

Chapter 15: A Broken Heart

 

The ground underneath her jostled. There was noise. Cries of fear. Shouts to flee. 

 

It was all so far away. 

 

An ache filled the space between the noise. It took a few minutes for the hobbit to realize that it was a constant screeching. Something was keening. It was like the very air was mourning. 

 

Llorabell forced open her eyes. Her lashes were caked in something that made them stick together. Her eyes couldn’t focus very well. 

 

There were blurs moving around her. She was on something large and furred. A keen, nearly matching the one vibrating all around her escaped her lips. She was crying.

 

The burglar of the company of Thorin Oakenshield tried to sit up. Pain exploded out from her chest and head. The keening in the air grew louder, quickly reaching a painful octave. 

 

“Don’t get up.” 

 

Llorabell turned to the voice with a helpless whine. A tall blur of grey filled her sight. The blur made some strange movement and then a wet cloth was rubbed over her face and water was trickled down her throat. 

 

Gandalf came into clarity. Behind him the lonely mountain swarming with orcs was revealed. Blurs that could only be eagles swarmed between them and the orcs. As if guarding their back.

 

They were retreating.

 

Tears welled up and fear chased away the pain in her chest as she tried to sit up once again. Something kept her from rising properly, though. She looked down and stared uncomprehendingly at the rope around her waist.

 

She was tied to a giant bear.

 

The wizard carefully pushed her down. “Rest. Bilbo. You have to rest.”

 

Llorabell tried to say something but Gandalf touched her forehead and her exhaustion rushed back. The hobbit struggled against his magic. There was something wrong. About the mountain. There was something wrong.

 

“Will she be alright?”

 

The hobbit forced her head to turn and look at the new voice as she succumbed to sleep. It was a tall blond blur. Her sight faded against her will. Her last thoughts were of the fact that it couldn’t be Fili or any dwarf. It was too tall. 

 

An endless scream echoed out, it vibrated through her mind. Pain. And cold. It was too cold. Her eyes were glued shut, lashes clung together. It took so much effort to open them.

 

Another scream, one from a long time ago, joined the endless keening. Shouted pleadings for it to end rang around her. Her parents last breaths clung to her as they lost themselves to the pain of being dismembered, of watching the orcs eat them. 

 

Voices joined the keening. Cries about the poison and how she failed in healing the land. Pleadings of her to go back and fix what was done.

 

She didn’t want to listen. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to remember.

Llorabell forced her eyes open. And screamed.

Bifur stared at her as they stood on the battlefield. His front was covered in blood. He clutched the broken remains of his boar spear in one hand. The kind dwarf was missing flesh and muscle on parts of his face and arms. An eye was gouged out. 

Llorabell squeezed her eyes shut.

Sometimes she opened her eyes and it wasn’t Bifur standing there. 

 

It was Fili. 

 

Or Kili. Nori. Thorin. Every member of the company had appeared at least once, dead and covered in signs of scavengers having gotten to their bodies.  Sometimes, her parents would be there. At times, more than one appeared.

 

A few times, Llorabell opened her eyes to something else. The screaming always increased in volume and it was always hazy. She had a hard time keeping her eyes open. Once she was almost certain she had seen Beorn staring down at her.

 

It felt like she was trapped in an endless cycle. Then the keening slowly faded away until she could barely hear it. And one day a song, beautiful and strange, Elvish, filled her ears. 

 

Everything faded away.

 

There was nothing.

 

It was a sweet peace.

 

But that didn’t last either.

 

Whispers reached her ears. That was the first thing she became aware of. The second was the silken feeling of cloth surrounding her. Distant singing reached her a moment later.

 

Llorabell reluctantly opened her eyes. They were no longer caked with dried tears and blood (and who knows what else) but they were still difficult to move. Her lids were so very heavy. 

 

There was a soft light surrounding her. It reminded her of dawn, or dusk - when the sun was below the hills of the shire but not its light visibly lightening the sky. A canopy of golden leaves filled her sight. A few snowflakes fluttered down between them but never reached far before fading to nothing. 

 

“Little Bunny is awake.”

 

The hobbit lass turned until the large form of Beorn came visible. He sat on the floor with a few of his dogs relaxing at his side. A large map was spread out before him.

 

“B-” Llorabell choked as her throat struggled to produce any words. 

 

“You’ve been screaming too much.” Beorn noted. At her helpless stare he continued, “You were too close to the land. When it’s heart was killed, you couldn’t handle it.”

 

Her eyes widened at his words. Memory flowed back to the forefront, Beorn flying off the eagle and attacking Bolg, of the screaming of the land, of the cry for help from the stone. Bolg stabbing the stone. Fili being set upon by a large orc. Bifur dieing, saving her.

 

Her heart pounded in her ears. She could feel herself panicking. A large hand rested on her shoulder and gave a calming squeeze. “Nothing you can do about it now, Little Bunny.” Beorn consolid. “We just have to find new lands, new homes.”

 

Llorabell sucked in her breath in horror. A vague memory of orcs swarming the mountain forced its way to the forefront of her mind. That couldn’t be right. Durin’s folk had just gotten the mountain back. That was their home. This couldn’t be happening. “Mo-mo.”

 

Beorn regarded her for a moment before rising and walking around her bed. Llorabell watched the shapeshifter move out of her sight. He reappeared only to hold out a grey stone with cracks moving outward from a center break.

 

The Arkenstone.

 

It was dead.

 

“It was a heart.” Beorn stated. “You cannot live without a heart. You know that.” Tears welled up in her eyes at his words. She didn’t want to think of what that meant. Beorn said it anyway, “The mountain is dead and claimed by orcs.”

 

Llorabell looked up at the bear man as her tears fell. Beorn stared back as he said, “Laketown is destroyed. The land feels lessor now. As if the loss of this stone was more than it could take and the poison grows stronger.”

 

Beorn laid the dead stone at the hobbit’s side. “Your dwarves fled to the Iron Hills as we fled in the opposite direction.” The shapeshifter shook his head, “There is nothing to be done but move on. I must find a new home also.” 

 

He stared at her for another moment before sighing, patting her on her head. “Rest Little Bunny.” With that, Beorn turned and left.

 

Llorabell was left to her thoughts. Only the golden leaves and the distant singing was present to entertain her. It was a peaceful place.

 

The hobbit forced her too weak arm to move until her hand hit the stone. 

 

It was cold. 

 

The mountain was dead. 

 

She grasped it even as thoughts of her dwarves filled her mind. A breath of warmth and phantom pain filtered through a still whole bond. She had never been so conscious of it before. She had never been so glad of it.

 

It meant that Fili was alive. He was hurt but he was alive.

 

More tears fell. Bifur’s last moments filled her thoughts. She didn’t know about anyone else. Fili might be the only one to survive. 

 

Tears slid down her cheeks. 

 

It was her fault. 

 

If she hadn’t taken the Arkenstone out of the mountain, it would have never been destroyed. Erebor would not be lost. The dwarves would have their home once again. Bifur would still be alive.

 

She closed her eyes at the pain. She could feel the tears cling to her lashes. Llorabell opened them again and the golden leaves filled her sight.

 

“Sleep…Sleep little one and you will find peace...sleep….and know you are safe within my home….”

 

Llorabell snapped her eyes around, turning her head to try and find the speaker. She saw no one.

 

“Sleep…”

 

The hobbit shivered even as her eyes grew heavy. She didn’t want to sleep. 

 

“You are safe...here within Caras Galadhon...now sleep.”

  
Llorabell’s eyes fell shut and the world faded away. Her hand tightened around the dead stone and rolling hills of emerald green, a silver bead, and dancing blue eyes filled her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caras Galadhon - the city and fortress of the Galadhrim of Lothlórien.
> 
> \--  
> So this chapter is crazy short but I've rewritten it about 10 billion times at this point. This is the end of the first book.
> 
> We know that:
> 
>   * Fili is alive as of this chapter
>   * Llorabell is alive
>   * Bifur is dead
>   * Erebor has been claimed by orcs
>   * Thranduil is likely still in possession of the Ring
>   * The Arkenstone is destroyed
> 

> 
> Fun times
> 
> In other news, I have a new job so it might be a while till I get the next story up. But you can connect with me at my little blog: http://www.huntingforstory.com
> 
> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Novus Ars

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Killer Coat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290394) by [akahime4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akahime4/pseuds/akahime4)




End file.
